Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Derek had come across his fair share of supernatural occurrences in his life. It came with the alpha-werewolf territory after all. From Nogitsune to Kanima to Darachs, the menagerie of creatures and supernatural events were enough to fill his own bestiary if he ever felt so inclined. He thought he was prepared for it by now, or at the very least immune to surprises but nothing seemed as farfetched as walking into his loft at 3:30 on a Saturday morning and finding Stiles sitting at his kitchen island, arms deep in a bowl of brownie batter.

Derek wasn't even aware that he owned a bowl of that size and wasn't entirely convinced he had enough ingredients in his fridge to make a boiled egg much less a third batch of baked goods. But Stiles seemed at home in the kitchenette, flour dusting over his cheek and hair, chocolate drizzled over the marble countertop. He perched on the bar stool, one leg bent underneath him and the other bouncing incessantly on the foot bar near the floor.

"Stiles?" Derek nearly growls, more in astonishment than anger. "What the hell are you doing?" Stiles lifts his head and looks at him in mild surprise before turning his attention back down to where he's folding the mixture with a worn spatula.

"Oh! Uh… Hey Sourwolf. You're home early."

"It's three in the morning. What do you mean I'm home early? How did you know I was gone?"

Stiles shrugs.

"You're never home on Friday nights. I'm usually gone by seven."

"This is a regular occurrence?" Stiles nods.

"Yeah. Spare key under the mat? Really Derek? You're just asking for a break-in at this point. Might as well invite every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills for a cup of tea."

"Stiles, what is this?"

"Brownies."

"I'm not talking about the food! What are you doing here?"

"Making brownies?"

He drops his jacket down onto the couch in frustration, voice laced in annoyance."Stiles!"

"I didn't know where else to go." Derek freezes at that, the fight instantly draining out of him as he takes a moment to really look him over. Stiles is leaner than usual. He's always been more on the slender side compared to the other members of the packs but it's more prominent now, sharper cheekbones and jutting edges. His hands are shaking as he cleans the chocolate off his fingers, face pale in the fluorescent lighting. Derek sniffs at the air, tunes into the heavy scent of anxiety and the too fast beating of his heart and all the annoyance turns to worry.

"Whats wrong?" He's standing in front of him before he realizes what he's doing, hand outstretched to try and touch his shoulder but Stiles shifts uncomfortably away. His body jerks back as if he's been struck and the reaction has Derek freezing again. Warning bells are blaring in his head that something is wrong, something Stiles doesn't want him to feel because there's no other reason for the beta to avoid the physical check that's done to him any time the group makes it out of a fight.

"Nothings wrong. Just couldn't sleep."

"Stiles-"

"Look, everyone has been busy alright? Scott's got this new thing with Kira and Lydia has Aiden. You know how it is with Erica and Boyd and Peter takes off more often than you do. I never know what Isaac is doing. Hell, I don't think Isaac knows what Isaac is doing. I don't want to bother them when I can't sleep and dad will worry if he hears me pacing all night so I just come here when you're gone. I can pace as much as I want here…"

Derek isn't sure what to say to that. The loft has unwillingly become the runaway house for all the members. He knows this. From raves to hideouts to the occasional lovers lane, the betas use the apartment like a revolving door. He knows the key under the mat is a stupid idea for someone whose had as many break ins as he has and he knows the betas are grateful for it anyways. He hand't really been upset at Stiles for being here, he had as much right as any of the others even if it's Scott's pack he belongs to and not Derek's. But he's alone and Stiles being alone at three in the morning—looking for a distraction from sleep— is not an indicator of peaceful times.

"Stiles. Look at me." Stiles does. "How long has it been since you've slept?"

"I sleep Derek. Just… not a lot."

"Nightmares?" Stiles nods slowly, averts his eyes and seems to take in the state of the kitchen.

"Sorry. Really, I try to have everything cleaned up before you're back. You're usually out much later-"

"I don't care about the mess." He looks down at Stiles' fingers again and frowns when he sees the tremors haven't stopped. If anything it looks like they've gotten worse now that there's nothing to occupy his hands. "You're shaking."

"You were growling at me Sourwolf, what do you expect?" Derek knows enough about Stiles to know he'd take on an alpha with a baseball bat and still not be afraid so he's not impressed with the excuse and Stiles sighs when he sees it fall flat. "I'm cold."

"Cold?"

"Yeah Derek. Cold. You know, the thing us humans without selective fur get when the temperature drops?"

"It's 70 degrees outside." Stiles frowns before looking away.

"I've been like this since…" The Void. He doesn't say it. Can't say it, but Derek understands instantly and the apprehension only increases when Stiles clears his throat. "I can't sleep and I can't get warm and I'm afraid it's going to happen again; so when you're gone I come here and I bake because at least I'm alone and if it all burns down when I'm having whatever batshit crazy episode I have then at least it's only me!"

The words hit Derek like a physical blow, his chest aching with the realization and Stiles is blinking back tears now. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry." He says, shaking his head dejectedly. "I'm not trying to set your house on fire, I promise. It's just to keep my hands busy and Erica likes brownies. Sometimes I take them to the lacrosse team and Peter will bitch about me being here even though he almost ate an entire cake by himself last time. Besides, he said you really don't mind if we come over and I thought-"

"Stiles!" Derek demands, his voice snapping the other out of the panicked spiral. There's an audible click as Stiles shuts his mouth, large eyes glossy and heart rate teetering to a worrying degree. Derek hesitantly reaches for him again and this time Stiles lets his hand close around his wrist.

Cold is an understatement. The shock is almost enough to pull his hand away. Derek isn't the best judge when it comes to a human's body temperature, werewolves run hot and he's even warmer now that he's mastered his full shift but this…this is wrong. Terrifyingly wrong. Even he knows a body shouldn't feel like this. Stiles is freezing. He's ice. It's concerning enough on its own but the worst part is the steady wave of pain that accompanies it.

Derek winces and instinctually begins to siphon it away, frowning down at the black veins that rush up his arm. He can't even pinpoint where it's coming from. He doesn't smell blood or infection, doesn't feel broken bone or torn skin. Is it from lack of food? Of sleep? It's not an insignificant amount even by his own standards and Stiles gasps from the sudden absence of it, all but collapsing in relief.

Derek wraps his free arm around his waist to keep him from falling, panic starting to settle in his chest as Stiles grips him in return. He knows humans are fragile in comparison, knows there are a lot of things that can effect their physical state and he begins to feel more and more unease as he runs through the catalog of possible reasons and is able to dismiss each one. "Stiles-" He begins, hoping his voice doesn't betray the worry but Stiles shakes his head against his shoulder answering the question before he can ask it.

"I don't know. I don't know, it always hurts." Stiles murmurs. "Everything. It's just all over…"

Stiles isn't sure how to explain it, how to admit that whatever the Void left hasn't stopped. It eases sometimes but never stops. There's no injury, Melissa has claimed that all his results are normal and Stiles had finally chalked it up to being all in his head until now. Until Derek has literally pulled it out of him. "The d-doctors say I'm fine. I thought… I thought I was imagining it."

Derek isn't sure what part is more disturbing. The fact that Stiles doesn't know what is causing him constant pain, the fact that 'always' hints that it's been going on for a while or the fact that he assumed it was something he had imagined. The sudden and alarmingly desperate urge to protect takes root in Derek. The alpha's instinct to fix all but consumes him as he guides Stiles to the couch. He's not sure what to do, what he can do, only knows that the human beta is cold and tired and hurting and he needs to get it to stop.

Derek reaches for his jacket, pulling it over Stiles' shoulders and motions him to put it on. Ideally he'd get the blanket from off the bed but the dregs of pain aren't lessening and he's not comfortable with releasing Stiles' wrist just yet.

Stiles looks at the jacket in surprise, his eyebrows raising up to his hairline before he obeys, awkwardly shimmying one arm through at a time so Derek can keep hold of him.

It's warmer than he had thought though it may be from the residual heat from being on Derek's person. It smells like the alpha, pinewood and fresh rain covered under and old spice cologne. Something he's learned from rifling through Derek's bathroom one day in search of an unsurprisingly nonexistent bandaid. Stiles is glad for the familiar scent, uses it to ground himself to the moment as he buries his face down into the collar, trying not to meet the pair of worried green eyes.

"What did Scott say about it?" Derek asks carefully. He knows he's very close on encroaching on Scott's pack dynamic. Toeing a line over what could be considered either helpful or defiant depending on an alpha's mood. He doesn't want to start an argument over the members but he's not about to let Stiles leave when he's feeling like this.

Stiles shrugs. "He doesn't know."

"How does he not know?" Derek nearly growls. The idea of Scott sitting next to Stiles in class, riding next to him in the jeep, having lunch across from him in the cafeteria and not noticing something was wrong is unacceptable. There's no way he hadn't smelled much less saw the anxiety leaking out of his beta. Not to mention the warning tugs from the pack bonds. Derek hadn't noticed the pain until he had touched him but he had heard the unhealthy heartbeat and seen the physical discomfort. Scott would of had to-

"We haven't spoken in months." That… was unexpected. Derek raises an eyebrow in question and Stiles looks down at their linked hands, ashamed. "H-He doesn't want me in the pack… He told me he didn't want me hanging around anymore. That it's safer for me not to be involved… I don't blame him, after everything… After Allison. Lydia can't even look me in the eyes…"

"He kicked you out?" This time Derek does growl and Stiles can't hold back the tears any longer as he nods.

A burning, white anger causes Derek to stand, to pull himself away from the other as his fangs drop and claws extend. Stiles is staring at him in confused terror, pale face now white. He grips the jacket to himself, watches as Derek closes his eyes against the barely contained rage and tries to breathe through the sudden shift. There isn't necessarily any danger but Derek doesn't seem to be fully in control either, his body shaking with the spike of adrenaline. "D-Derek…?"

Stiles' voice is nothing more than a squeak.

It had been gutting when Scott asked him to leave… Stiles can still see the look of disappointment on his friends face, the resigned disgust that had followed him since the Nogitsune had been banished. Lydia had isolated herself from the rest, nursing Aiden back to health and following the twins around after they were finally added to the pack. Kira had tried softening the blow Allison's passing had left, tried uniting the team in her awkward optimism but Malia couldn't adjust to the emotional turmoil and after Scott was able to teach her how to shift she had left Beacon Hills. Isaac spent a lot of time with Chris now; when Erica and Boyd demanded space, when missing Allison became too much to handle on his own... Melissa hadn't much changed in her opinions on Stiles but she didn't question it when she noticed he wasn't visiting her house anymore either.

It had hurt.

Watching each one move on in their own way, distancing themselves from him. School had been hard to navigate. He found himself spending more time with the lacrosse team and throwing himself into his studies, thankful for Danny and his welcoming smile. Home had been even harder, with Noah constantly asking about the pack, questioning why everything seemed so quiet. Asking why the cork board had been taken down from his bedroom wall. But Stiles had handled it, made up excuses when needed and played on the trauma and depression until his dad eased off. He could push his way through school, could ignore the newest crop circle or missing teen, could pretend the howls at night were nothing but a lonely dog abandoned at the landfill. It was doable.

But here… Watching Derek pull away… Thinking he had potentially just ruined whatever lingering relationship he had left sent him into a blinding panic.

Stiles stands, backing away from crimson eyes, shaking his head furiously to try and make sense of it all. It's obvious he's done something wrong but he's not exactly sure what that is. "I'm s-sorry Derek. I'm sorry. I d-didn't… I tried… T-The others-" He couldn't do it. Couldn't speak through he sob that wrenched in his throat, could barely breathe as the walls started closing in around him. Derek's eyes snap back to him and he nearly collapses again when the glowing embers flash from furious rage to heartbreaking concern.

Derek moves, faster than Stiles can track, arms pulling Stiles forward into his chest, wrapping around his shoulders and Stiles crumbles.

Derek grits his teeth against the sound that rises from him, the choked, shattering sob that rips outward. It's raw, feral in a way that has his alpha senses clawing against his own being. Help him, help him, help him. Instinct guides him now, pulling Stiles to sit back down, siphoning away the hurt once more as he holds him.

Stiles is clutching at his shirt, face buried into his neck as he cries. He reeks of fear. Anxiety and depression and pain and Derek can't quiet the voice in his head that is screaming at him to fix it.

It's easier with Weres, with the pack bond. Knowing when a touch is appreciated or unwelcome, when he can scent them, calm them with low growls of reassurances and presses of fur. When his own presence acts like a crutch his members can lean on. He knows his reputation states that he doesn't like physical affection. It's by design that he's built it up that way but wolves are —at their core—social beings and Derek can admit he's better at handling physical contact than he is emotional intimacy. He doesn't know how to navigate this. Stiles isn't a werewolf and there isn't the bond between them like there is with the other betas. The one that tells him how far and how much he can push. He knows however that he needs to do something. That whatever happens now is crucial to Stiles' wellbeing and it scares the shit out of him.

Luckily, or unluckily, it's Stiles' who breaks the silence, his voice higher than normal through the wave of tears. "I'm sorry Derek. I'm sorry. D-don't hate me. Not you. Anyone but you. I c-can't loose you too. I c-can't-"

Pack bonds be damned.

Derek cups his face, breaking the hold on him to bring them eye to eye and pushes forward, pressing his cheek against Stiles' to scent him. It shocks Stiles still, the panicked gasps catching hard in his throat and Derek closes his eyes as he does it again, smearing the tears onto his own face as he runs his jawline across the exposed skin.

It's awkward.

They're sitting wrong, their torsos twisted in a weird angle, knees knocking against one another as they embrace. The new couch Erica has chosen has never been comfortable, leaning too far back to actually provide any support, reclining more than Derek likes at the best of times. Now it just another problem, a barrier blocking him from helping and Derek quickly tucks his leg underneath him, turning more fully to pull Stiles closer.

Stiles is still weeping, still shaking, still hurting but the scenting had offered some sort of relief, acting as a grounding force that Stiles seems to cling to. He bows his head to Derek, exposing the flesh of this neck in an act of submission. It's a pack gesture, a sign of trust. Derek isn't sure how or why Stiles knows it but his wolf's instincts purr in appreciation all the same. He takes the movement as the invitation that it is, scenting him once more and it causes another sob of relief to fill the space between them. He's done this right at least…

"I don't hate you." Derek says into his shoulder, because it's the truth. Stiles annoyed him, worried him, exasperated him in a way no one else has ever been able to do. He was sporadic and excitable and all the things Derek wasn't but he was also the first person Derek looked for in the group. The one whose opinions— when spoken earnestly— mattered above all others. He was also the one who looked out for the alpha more than anyone else ever had. Who texted Derek once a week a "checking in to see if you're still breathing Sourwolf". The only one who had asked if he was alright, letting them use his mother's urn for the Nogitsune… There were a lot of feelings he had for Stiles and hate was not one of them.

"I could never hate you." There's a noise, something stuck between a gasp of air and a cry of pain but the acrid smell of panic is slowly ebbing out of him. "I want to smash Scott's face in." He admits that truth as well.

Becoming a pack is not only symbolic, it's crucial. Both for the strength of the team and the health of the alpha. It's why the beta's take the oath, to protect and defend the family, a promise to serve not only their leader but each other. In return the alpha offers up the same fidelity, the enduring loyalty of living for the pack and the unquestioning decision to die for it if need be. They are universal laws, sacred. The bonds they share are deeper than any known, deeper than marriage, than familial, than religious. Removing a member is worse than loosing one. The greatest failure an alpha can make.

You can be mad at your beta, can disagree, punish, even resent them but only the truly unforgivable are discarded. Betas leave often but they are rarely thrown out. Not unless the crime they've committed can truly be declared dishonorable to the pack. It's a death sentence, to willingly change a beta to an omega, to strip them of all protection and relations and send them out into the wild. An execution.

Stiles may not be a wolf but that only makes the sentencing harsher. Allowing a human to dive into their world, offer him the comforts and safety of the pack and then take it all way. It's cruel, beyond cruel and Derek shakes with the unfairness of it. Scott can't know, can't possibly begin to understand what he's done. The damage it will cause.

Stiles doesn't deserve this. Not for the Nogitsune. Not for anything. Scott should be here caring for his friend, should be treating and nursing him better. He should be the one to hold Stiles while he weeps, fixing whatever pain is plaguing him. Not this…

Stiles cries for a concerning amount of time, the pain never falling below a level of uncomfortableness even as Derek works to lessen it. He's warmer now at least, curled between the leather jacket and the alpha's shoulder and his heartbeat finally stutters into something that resembles steady. It's barely enough to offer reassurance but Derek is prepared to take whatever small victory he can get. And they stay sitting there, until cries turn to sniffles and eventually to silence.

Even then Derek is hesitant to break away, afraid the lack of contact will have him spiraling once more but Stiles begins to fidget in his arms and he takes it as a sign to lean back.

Stiles does not meet his eyes, just stares down into the space between them. Embarrassment and frustration pile onto the other self depreciating emotions that filter through the room. It's overwhelming. Derek hates every bit of it.

"I-It's not his fault…" Stiles says eventually. "I… I don't blame him." Like hell it isn't!

Derek grabs his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "None of what happened was your fault. None of it. And Scott knows it."

"It was Allison-"

"It could have been his own mother and it still wouldn't have been your fault." Stiles goes pale at the mention of Melissa.

"You can't say that! Y-You don't know… I-I remember it Derek. I remember everything… I remember doing it. I remember liking it." He says in disgust. "And I still feel him, like something crawling under my skin." He brings his hands up to his head, clutching at his hair as he shuts his eyes. "H-His voice… I still hear it."

Derek wants to punch something. Wants to scream. To snarl and growl and shake the wrongness out of him. The fear is pungent, growing, filling the room and the hackles of Derek's wolf rises, itching to fight and defend. He reaches for Stiles' hands, pulling gently until their grip releases and he can take them into his own. He scents them too, letting out a small whine when he notices the fingernails have been bitten down enough to bleed.

Stiles watches him, pained and tired. "W-Why?" He begs.

"Why what?"

"You. Scenting me…?"

"You're hurting." Derek says simply. He knows it's not usual for humans, it probably doesn't have the calming or reassuring effect it's meant to have on Weres. He's done it now partly because Stiles had reacted to it and partly because he doesn't know what else to do in response to the anxiety coming off him.

"I'm n-not pack." Stiles stutters, sounding almost… guilty. "I don't have a pac-"

"You do. You've always been part of my pack." Derek realizes, even as he says it that it's true. In some ways Stiles had been his first beta. Having forcefully pushed himself into Derek's life, carving his own Stiles-sized space around him. He was the first to trust him, to defend him against Scott, to reach for him when he was injured; to save him from drowning in the pool. When it came to rescuing Boyd and Erica from the vault he had offered to go even before Scott was asked. Always willing to help, to fight, to protect… giving the oath with actions alone. He offered himself up as the sacrificial lamb for supernatural creatures that overpowered and outperformed him. And Derek had been awed by it, humbled by it. Watching as the small human took on alphas and kanima and darachs with nothing but snide comments and a baseball bat. It was terrifying at the worst of times and enchanting at the best. And if Scott wasn't going to appreciate the unyielding, all-encompassing selfless devotion Stiles gave Derek sure as hell would.

Stiles blinks back at him in surprise and the hesitation is enough for Derek to continue. "I never asked because I never wanted to insult Scott. I knew how close you both were but you've always been. To me. I'd be proud to have you as my beta."

Stiles opens his mouth to respond only to shut it a moment later. He looks around the room, seeming to come back to himself as his eyes fall on the forgotten brownies and the leather jacket wrapped around his shoulders.

"I'm not sure I can take any of this seriously when I'm crying on you like a kindergartner." He finally says, voice almost back to normal and Derek smiles gratefully at that. They move to right themselves on the couch, Derek grasps his wrist once more, turning on and off the pull of pain. A comforting silence settles over them, it would almost be peaceful if Derek wasn't so worried about the hurt traveling up his arm. Stiles looks down to watch the worm-like movement, frowning. "You can stop Derek. You're doing it too much."

"It hasn't eased."

"It won't. It doesn't." He says quietly.

"How long?"

"Since the Nogitsune…"

"It's been months Stiles!" Stiles nods. "Is it always this bad?" Another nod. "Have you asked Deaton?" This time Stiles shakes his head.

"I thought it was just… Lydia called it something. When Scott couldn't heal after we thought you were dead. Just my guilt making it up? The doctors couldn't find anything so I thought it was all in my head."

"You don't have anything to feel guilty about." Stiles scoffs harshly at that, turning his face away and Derek decides not to push it. "We'll both go to Deaton tomorrow."

"Today you mean?" Stiles motions to the microwave clock and Derek sees it's almost five now.

"You need to sleep, even if its just a few hours." He moves to stand, pulling Stiles off the couch with him and makes towards the bed. "Come on. You can nap. By the time you wake up Deaton should be at the clinic."

"Derek, you don't have to-"

"Shut up Stiles." He says, though there's no bite to it and Stiles' lips tick upward in a small smile. Derek guides him to the mattress, watches as Stiles kicks off his shoes and clamors on top of the comforter.

"Get under the blankets."

"No way. I'm still in my clothes, your sheets will get dirty." Derek scoffs and pulls the edges up and around him, efficiently making a Stiles-sized burrito.

"Der, I won't be able to sleep." Derek doesn't respond and Stiles looks back to at the bedside to find he's disappeared. It's a moment later that he hears the door lock, the oven powering down. Lights begin to fade and curtains are drawn and the domestic sounds both surprise and lull him. Derek eventually returns and kicks off his own shoes before sitting down next to his leg, reaching for his arm under the blanket. "Derek…" Stiles chastise when he feels the pull of pain begin once more.

"Go to sleep."

It goes quiet. Stiles hasn't felt this level of relief or comfort in months. The absence of pain, the protective presence sitting next to him… At first, right after things had calmed down from the Void, Noah would sit in a chair in the corner of his room. It had helped to a degree but there was little comfort in knowing that his very human father would be no match for the very real monsters that plagued their lives. It had taken some convincing and some sleepless nights staring at the ceiling to prove that didn't really need a security guard, but it's different here with Derek. An alpha, sitting at attention... Stiles' very own sentinel. It's safety. Safety he hadn't felt since he learned about werewolves and demons and druids. Safety he hadn't expected to ever feel again. And he's grateful. Incredibly grateful. "Der…" Stiles mumbles into the darkness.

"Hmm?"

"You know, you've always been my alpha. You know that right? Before Scott became-" He shakes his head. "No, even after Scott became one. I loved him, he was my brother but I've always thought of you as my alpha. No matter what happened to the packs it was always you."

There's a long stretch of silence, a worrying beat where he thinks he might have said something wrong and he opens his mouth again to correct it, to apologize when suddenly the bed shifts and he feels Derek's hand squeezing gently over his own. It almost causes the tears to kick up all over again. "I…I'd be proud to be part of your pack." He says instead and hears a pleased growl rumble quietly through the room.

"Go to sleep Stiles." Derek says gently and Stiles does.

Chapter Text

“It’s residual foxfire from the Nogitsune.” Deaton says after Stiles lists his symptoms. The druids face is as calm and leveled as ever as he digs through the box of herbs. “I expected you to have some complications but when you didn’t come to see me I thought we had gotten lucky.” 

“Sorry to disappoint.” Stiles mumbles. 

“You must have been in an overwhelming amount of pain Stiles?” 

“S-Sometimes…” He says. Deaton however looks unimpressed. 

“Constantly.” He corrects before he starts uncorking a bottle of yellow flowers. “I’m surprised Scott didn’t say anything to me.” 

“I never told him.” 

Deaton frowns at that. He begins dropping an array of herbs and petals into a large cloth bag that sits on the exam table between them. Stiles watches, trying to follow along with the names of the plants he knows but there are far more that he isn’t familiar with and an awful smell begins to emit from the pile as more and more are added. “You really shouldn’t keep these things from your alpha, it doesn’t really instill proper trust within the packs. I’m sure Scott could sense something-”

“Scott isn’t my alpha.” Stiles says offhandedly. “Derek is, and I’d appreciate it if you keep the foxfire just between us.” The vet stills at that, his eyes flickering up to where Derek leans against the opposite wall and the alpha raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge. 

It’s never been a secret how much Deaton had taken to the teen. He liked Scott… Everyone liked Scott. In fact, over the 9 years Stiles had known his friend there were less than a handful of people who didn’t seem taken by his bright smile and puppy dog eyes. It shouldn’t be surprising to see the druid upset over the seemingly sudden and fierce turn of loyalty Stiles was presenting but there’s something decidedly off about the way the two men are staring at one another. 

They’re… glaring. A look of cynical judgement stuttering over Deaton’s face. One Derek meets with steady defiance. The air is suddenly thick with tension, enough for Stiles to straighten and watch the exchange. Derek had never truly trusted the druid. Hell, Stiles himself never trusted the druid but it had been over a year since either of them were actually hostile. Now however, Deaton looks ready to argue, a thin line of disapproval settling on his lips. 

Stiles won’t hear it. Refuses to hear it. Not about the man who had literally held him together this morning. The first person who had looked at him since the Nogitsune. The only one willing to meet his eyes and not turn away from the awfulness he finds there. No. Not happening. “Deaton?” Stiles says, his voice tilting in warning. “We’re not telling Scott about the foxfire.” About anything, is what he really means and Deaton finally turns his attention back down to the vile in his hands, clearly unhappy but nodding nonetheless. 

“Alright…” He says, an unwilling dissent as he adds the last of the botanicals to the bag. “Well… it isn’t an easy thing to get rid of. The herbs here should be steeped in something hot, preferably used as a tea… you should drink it whenever you start feeling uncomfortable. It will help in neutralizing the toxin and it should take away most of the pain.” 

“Most?” Derek asks thinly. 

“Unfortunately foxfire can be incredibly strong and this from the Nogitsune is probably as strong as it gets. The fact that Stiles is still standing is an impressive feat. How he’s been able to function in his every day life is…” 

“A good sign?” Stiles offers optimistically. 

“Concerning.” 

“Oh…” 

“Most normal humans wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” Derek straightens, stepping away from the wall to walk closer to his beta.

“Meaning what?”  

“He’s not normal.” Deaton looks at him pointedly. 

“Fantastic.” Stiles deadpans, taking the bag Deaton hands him. “I’ll just add myself to the never ending list of Beacon Hills’ Abomination Journal. Poisoned Demon Fox Stiles can sit right under Jackson and Jennifer.” 

“Not normal does not mean bad Stiles. In actuality it’s probably what’s kept you going this long. What the Void left is essentially a poison and whatever magic you do poses has been absorbing it enough to keep you alive” 

Derek feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “You mean this could kill him?” Deaton’s eyes soften but he nods all the same. 

“It’s surprising it hasn’t killed him yet.” 

“And you never thought to mention the possibility after we banished it?” Derek growls. 

“I assumed if there were any problems Scott would let me know.”

Derek’s body shutters in anger. Stiles sees the vibration cutting down the alpha’s arm and without thinking he reaches for him, laying his hand down on the elbow of his leather jacket. It shocks him, Derek’s head whipping around to look at him in confusion. “He didn’t know Derek. I didn’t tell anyone.” Stiles isn’t at all surprised. At the very least, with how things had been going he had assumed he would eventually loose himself to a manic episode. If poison is what really takes him out at least he wouldn’t have to do it on his own… He guesses that’s a win. “Can we rewind back to me having magic please? Like magic magic? Like staff and wands and spells magic?” 

“That I don’t know. There are many humans who posses magic abilities. Druids, witches, priests and priestesses… I don’t know the extent of what you are or what you can do but there is obviously some power you posses. Have you ever noticed anything that may be relevant?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Besides believing in your ‘spark’ when I had to make the mountain ash last I don’t think I’ve ever really done anything else.” 

“Well, magic does play by its own set of rules. Some people have it and never know and some people know and can’t use it. I believe that yours probably stayed dormant inside you until the Void gave it no other choice.” Stiles frowns. “Don’t be discouraged, there are a lot of ways we can test to see what you’re capable of.” Revulsion wraps through the air so quickly and forcefully Derek twitches at Stiles’ side. The beta is shaking his head, hands tightening around the bag of herbs. 

“No. We’re not testing anything.” 

“It wouldn’t be painful. Like lighting a candle for instance or levitating a pen-”

“No!” Stiles snaps. “I said no. I’m done. I’m out. Demon possession 1, Stiles 0. We already relit the supernatural beacon after our little ice bath challenge and we all know how well that turned out. I’m not playing with ouija boards and seances too.” 

“It wouldn’t have to be anything like mediumship. We-” 

“I said no.” 

“Your magic is just another supernatural ability. No different than what Lydia uses for her visions or Derek for his shift-”

“Derek didn’t blow up his own father’s office and try to kill his pack members the last time he made his eyes red Deaton. You don’t get it! I lived with that thing inside me. I felt how strong it is, I know what it could have done if I had let it and you’re telling me that power is still there? You want me to try to tap into whatever magic I have— magic that’s been marinating in this for months—in order to light a candle?” Derek feels Stiles’ anger leaking out over the rest of his emotions. He’s gripping onto the sleeve of his jacket, knuckles turning white from the tension. 

“It’s true. It’s very possible your magic has been corrupted. Probable actually, but if that’s the case then you don’t have a choice. For the foxfire to leave your system it will have to be drained out. The tea will make the process easier but it’s not going to just evaporate away. You’ll have to release it.” Stiles’ body deflates, his hand slipping back down to his side and Derek can’t help but take a step closer to him. 

“You only really have these two options Stiles. Let the toxin sit inside you until your magic is used up or you bleed it out a little at a time. If I had to guess though, I’d say your body will try to expel it on it’s own. If that happens you won’t be able to control how it acts… If you really are afraid of the Void influencing your own power than you need to learn how and when to direct it. I can teach you, but only if we know what kind of magic it is.” 

Derek feels when the panic starts, smells the anxiety and fear course outwards again. It’s too much like this morning, too much like he’s loosing his beta to another episode and he’s not willing to let that happen. “That’s enough.” He says flatly, taking a step toward Deaton. “He’s not well enough to do anything right now. He hasn’t slept and he’s in pain. We get that under control first.” Stiles looks back at him gratefully. 

“Of course, his health is the most important factor at the moment but I will urge you both not to let this go on too long. Magic has a way of making itself known and the more you try to suppress it the worst things can get.”

“We aren’t suppressing anything.” Derek growls dangerously. “This has been going on for months, the very least you can give him is one night of sleep.”  

Once again Deaton’s eyes flash with disapproval but he finally nods in agreement. “Alright. Then, tomorrow.” 

“We should go Derek…” Stiles says tiredly, patting the alpha’s shoulder as he passes him to the door. And then, to Deaton. “Thanks for this…”

“I understand this is a lot to take in Stiles but it can be a good thing. Magic can heal as much as it can harm.” Deaton says gently. “Though I must admit, I’m not sure how we’ll keep this from Scott if he shows up for work while you’re here.” 

“I’ll make sure to come when he’s gone. I’ve memorized his schedule.” Stiles says. “And that means he’s on his way here now so we should go.” He turns to head out of the office and Derek begins to follow when the Druid stops him. 

“Derek. I’m serious about him learning to control it. The consequences otherwise are just as deadly as leaving the poison unchecked.” Derek hesitates before nodding and hurries out the door, almost colliding with Stiles right outside the clinic. 

It takes all but a second for Derek’s ears to pick up the telltale motor of Scott’s dirt bike. His hands fisting at his sides when he sees the flash of green racing into the parking lot. Stress, anxiety, annoyance, fear, sadness… The emotions are pungent and Derek has never before realized just how much a human can feel within seconds until now. Stiles is overflowing with them, the beta quickly snapping his head back around to give the alpha a pleading look. He’s nervous, his heart rate ticking up.

“Please don’t start anything.” He begs, voice small, too small. The rush of anxiety that envelopes Stiles does nothing to help lessen the want to slams Scott’s face into the concrete but Derek sees the worried look and nods despite himself. 

“I won’t.” 

“Let’s just go.” Stiles adds making a move for the Camaro but Scott has already shut off the engine, his voice laced with surprise when he sees them. 

“Derek? Stiles? What are you doing here?” 

It’s like watching an actor on stage, Derek notes. The way Stiles takes a second to close his eyes in fatigue and exasperation. He gather’s himself in that moment. Body straightening, face brightening. Derek hears the exhale of breath and stares, transfixed as his heartbeat slows and the sense of panic gets buried so deep down under the grin he plasters to his lips its like it was never there to begin with. Stiles spins on his heel to face McCall, all bright eyes and lax limbs as he discreetly pockets the large bag of herbs. Derek is sent reeling. The shift in his beta is not supernatural but it’s as impressive as any werewolf one he’s ever seen. 

“Scottie! Sup man! We’re just, ya know…hanging around.” 

“At… Deaton’s?” Scott asks, unconvinced. He looks suspiciously between the two of them. 

“Yeah! Derek wants to adopt a cat!” Derek can’t stop the annoyed scoff, only stares at Stiles in mounting disapproval as Scott’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. 

“A… cat?” 

“Yeah! He loves cats. Right Derek?”

Derek does not love cats. Derek is actually allergic to cats. Never mind the immediate and obvious instinctual desire to chew on said cat; but Stiles is staring at him expectantly, sending him a wide grin. Derek sighs. 

“Love them.” He grumbles thinly and Stiles’ grin widens past his ears. 

Scott’s surprise turns into confusion. “Well… Where is it?” 

“What?” 

“Derek’s cat?” 

“We didn’t get one.” 

“The alpha werewolf decided against adopting a cat…” Scott says. “Probably for the best.” 

Derek is annoyed. He’s beyond annoyed. He’s pissed, and whatever little bickering dance these two are doing is making his skin itch in displeasure. He wants to get Stiles home, wants to force-feed him the tea and obsess over Deaton’s words and punch a hole in the wall. But the two are still staring at one another in a sort of standoff, Stiles’ grin too wide and Scott’s eyes too narrowed.

Scott knows Stiles is full of shit. Stiles knows that Scott knows that Stiles is full of shit and Derek is ready to say as much when Scott finally sighs. 

“Look, Stiles. I thought I made it clear you shouldn’t be around this stuff anymore. It’s not safe for you and that includes Deaton and Derek.” 

Derek lied. 

Less than 24 hours after agreeing to Stiles joining the pack and he lied to his newest beta. He was going to start something. 

Stiles moves just as Derek does, positioning himself in front of him and grabbing his wrist to hold him back. The alpha freezes as his wolf's instincts immediately start pulling at the wave of pain underneath his jacket. It’s worse than this morning, worse than anything he’s ever felt from the human and all the anger disappears. 

“You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to Scott. Derek is my friend.” 

“Friend? Stiles he’s like five years older than us. You’re in high school.” 

“Says the guy who hangs our with the 40 year old werewolf hunter.” Stiles snaps. “He’s always been our friend. Remember all those times he’s saved our asses? I kind of chalk that up to friendship material. What do you care anyways?” 

Scott’s eyes fall to where Stiles’ hand is gripping Derek’s. He sniffs the air, no doubt noticing how their scents have mingled and his face turns a shade paler as he stares at them. “D-Dude, you’re not…?” Stiles’ confusion only lasts a minute, his own eyes trailing back down to their hands and Derek can feel the rage boil over Stiles’ like hot water. 

“Fucking? You’re asking if we’re fucking?” He snarls and now it’s Derek whose staring at his beta with a look of concern. He thinks about pulling away, about correcting Scott’s misunderstanding but if anything Stiles’ grip tightens and the pain lacing through his arm could actually persuade Derek to adopt a cat if it meant getting the medicine into Stiles sooner. “Well guess what Scott, you don’t get to know that! I can talk to whoever I want! I can hang out with whoever I want and I can sleep with whoever I want and you don’t get to know a damn thing about it! We’re not friends, we’re not pack. You lost that fucking right!” 

“You’re a minor!” 

“My birthday was two weeks ago you asshole!” Stiles growls. The wave of hurt that washes over Stiles is too much and all the instincts in Derek screams to defend him. So he does. 

Derek sweeps Stiles behind himself with a wave of his arm, ignoring the displeased chirp of protest. “Whatever happens to him now doesn’t concern you.” Derek says at last, his eyes glowing in warning. “He’s joined my pack.” 

Scott’s face lights up in surprise before he frowns. “He’s human Derek. He should never have gotten mixed up in all this.” 

“We’ve worked alongside humans for centuries. To have an emissary is an honor. To have their trust is an honor. Stiles was your first beta and by all rights should have been your second in command. We don’t abandon our pack and I never took you as the kind to abandon your friend.” 

That causes the alpha to shrink back, his face falling in guilt. Good. Derek had wanted it to hurt. To hurt as badly as Stiles had been hurting this morning. As badly as he was hurting right now. 

“Something could happen to him!” 

“That’s exactly why you don’t leave him on his own!” Derek growls. “Even Deucalion had an emissary.”

“A druid, who could fight and protect herself. Stiles can’t!” 

Derek feels the body stiffen behind him. Feels Stiles’ breath quicken as he works to regulate his heartbeat. It’s amazing that he can. Through the pain and the discomfort and the emotions the chemo signals are almost non existent but Derek knows the effect it has on him. Can smell the disappointment and self doubt. 

“He’s saved your life. He’s saved my life all without any abilities. Just because your girlfriend didn’t make it doesn’t give you the right to turn on him.” Scott’s eyes flash and Derek prepares himself for the fight when Stiles rushes forward, lacing his arms around Derek’s bicep. 

“Stop it! Both of you stop it!” He snaps as a car turns into the parking lot. “Derek we have to go.” 

They do have to. Derek knows. Stiles is straining to pull him away, his thin body shaking with the effort and it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. He shouldn’t feel this weak. He never has before. Stiles was human but he was also a fit and athletic one. He never trained with weights but he ran and played sports and by all rights he shouldn’t feel like this, not even against an alpha. It’s that fact alone that forces him to turn his back on Scott and dig in his pocket for his keys. Stiles lets out a relieved sigh and leads him back to the Camaro. 

“Stiles! Scott yells across the parking lot and Derek expects him to stop, to shout out a snarky comment over his shoulder but Stiles only ducks his head and throws himself into the car.

Stiles is silent on the ride back to the loft, his shaking fingers pressed to his lips as he bites down on the thumb nail. Derek isn’t used to the quiet, not when Stiles is involved and he decides pretty damn quickly he doesn’t like it. He knows he should probably say something, knows by the thickness in the air that Stiles is not okay but words have never been Derek’s strong suit and he can’t help but think he may have made things worse by bringing up Allison. 

He frowns to himself. Things have gotten complicated, far more complicated than he had expected and Scott was infuriating. He had liked McCall. Had believed in McCall and that’s what made it all worse. He hadn’t lied when he said he never expected him to willingly abandon his friends. Derek was… disappointed in the younger alpha and he knew he didn’t have that right. Not when he himself had made so many mistakes with his own pack. 

The sound of Stiles’ teeth against nearly nonexistent nail is what makes him snap out of his brooding. He still doesn’t know what to say but he can smell the faintest hint of blood working its way along the surface of Stiles’ finger and grabs at the betas wrist, slowly pulling the hand away. “You’re going to make it bleed.” He warns when Stiles jumps at the sudden contact. 

“…Sorry” 

Derek hadn’t realized how often Stiles apologizes until now… He decides he doesn’t like that either. 

He doesn’t respond but he doesn’t let his wrist go and Stiles looks at him in confusion until he starts pulling at the pain again. 

“Dude, you gotta stop doing that. It can’t be good for you.” Stiles argues. 

“You’ve handled it for months. Indulge me.” 

“I’m not that weak Derek.” 

“I know.” The nonchalance in his voice makes Stiles’ glower. 

“I don’t want to see you in pain any more than you want to see me.” 

“It doesn’t hurt me.” 

“Right. The little black squiggles are just your newest tattoo idea.” Stiles hisses irritably, clearly unimpressed. 

“I don’t mean it like that. I feel it but it hurts me more knowing that you’re in pain and I’m not doing anything to stop it.” 

“Oh. So the Big Bad Wolf is an empath now?” Derek sighs. 

“It’s a good description for it but I mean it in a literal sense. We’re pack, I’m the alpha. I know you’re injured and instinct tells me to fix it. Not fixing it causes me… distress.” 

Stiles goes still at that, his eyes scrutinizing him for a lie. “You’re serious?” Derek nods. “Is it… Is it like that for all your betas?” 

“Yes.” Derek says as he stares ahead. “Most of the time they try to hide it from me. Erica for example would rather eat silver than let me know when she’s hurting. She doesn’t like me to hover and she tells me I smell wrong when I’m worried. The last time she took a wolfsbane arrow to the chest I nearly lost an eye trying to heal it.” 

Stiles laughs, the sound startling both of them in the quiet space and Derek’s lips twitch upward. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually laughed and it’s surprising that Derek Hale of all people is the one to make him. 

Derek had done a lot of surprising things lately. 

Chris had told Stiles that alphas will put the health of their betas above all else. It had seemed excessive at the time, that one wolf would take responsibility for a pack that could reach up to 20 members but Derek seemed serious about this part of his oath at the very least. He hadn’t really stopped siphoning Stiles’ pain since he had learned about it. Hadn’t really left his side since he had walked in on him baking brownies. 

In all honesty Stiles isn’t sure how to feel about that. He knows Derek isn't nearly as cold and stoic as he tries to pretend to be. Even Stiles can see it’s his front; but he hadn’t expected the alpha to lend him shoulder to cry on either, much less scenting Stiles in order to make him feel better. 

That had been the most surprising if Chris’ lessons were anything to go by. Apparently scenting was strictly between pack mates. The gesture was a broad one, from claiming to affection to reassurance to pain relief… A sort of chamomile tea of the werewolf world. It was probably the most common form of bonding they had but it was also considered exclusive to the pack. The fact that Derek had done it, even before the offer of joining had been made is what confused Stiles. 

Derek—who had been born wolf—would have known better than anyone what that had meant. That he had basically broken cultural protocol in order to give Stiles comfort…And now here the alpha was, gathering him medicine, protecting him, defending him… making him laugh when all he wanted to do was punch something. He’s not sure if this is just the type of person Derek is under the armor of leather jacket and resting bitch face or if it was just that he had been a hundred percent serious that he had said he always considered Stiles his beta. Either way… Stiles is happy for it. Even if he doesn’t necessarily believe he deserves that loyalty. 

“What kind of distress happens if you don’t fix me?” Stiles asks. 

“Warning bells. Like a fire alarm going off inside my head.” 

“And it doesn’t stop until you do this?” Stiles gestures down to their hands. 

“My responsibility is to keep my pack safe and healthy and right now, you aren’t. Instinct demands I do something and unfortunately this is all I can do at the time being. It doesn’t stop the alarm but it does quiet it.” 

“So you’re just being music tortured the entire time I’m being fox poisoned?” Stiles asks in mild horror. 

“It’s not torture, it’s not enough to be disruptive but it’s enough for me to not forget it’s there. This is all part of being a pack Stiles. When one of us hurts we all do.” 

“Can I block it from you? You said Erica could.”

“I said she tries to hide it from me. Through the pack bonds I can feel sensations of pain and she is able to block that but if I’m able to see or hear or smell something wrong it won’t matter. I saw the arrow in her chest so the alarms sounded. Because I’m touching you I can feel the pain, but even if I wasn’t I can still tell somethings wrong. I can smell the anxiety on you, can feel you tense every time the pain spikes. Even your face gets pale when it’s bad. I don’t need werewolf powers to know something is hurting you. Scott would have been able to notice too if he wasn’t such an idiot.” 

Stiles frowns at that, staring back down at the black veins in Derek’s arm and sighs in resignation. 

“I’m sorry… about what I said to Scott.” Derek raises an eyebrow questioningly. “I should have told him right away we weren’t… doing that. It wasn’t fair to you. Not when I could have cleared it up pretty quickly. I was just so mad at him-”

“It didn’t bother me.” Guilt. It seeps out of Stiles and he turns his head to look out the window. “Does it bother you?” 

“That he thinks I’m sleeping with Beacon Hills’ hottest bachelor? No. That he would come out accusing you of taking advantage of me? Yeah.”

“I’m more upset I didn’t know your birthday passed.” Derek says.

The Hales had never really celebrated anything like holidays. Born wolf packs didn’t bother with human traditions, not when their very existence spanned past old gods and ancient civilizations. Birthdays however had always been an exception. Talia was adamant that all life should be honored and that each yearly cycle brought strength and beauty that breathed into the pack. Every family member had been commemorated on the day of their birth and though Derek hadn’t celebrated his own since Laura had passed he understood the importance of it. The fact that Scott had seemed to forget the date of his best friend's was not lost on Derek… only made the list of reasons to dislike the teen one mark longer. 

“I guess we’ve never really shared any of that stuff huh?” Stiles says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s weird. We’ve saved each other’s lives. I’d jump off a building if you told me to, just swan dive right off the edge without question and know you’d be there to catch me but I don’t really know anything about you. You’ve never told me your birthday or middle name or like, whatever you do every Friday night.” 

“You don’t know my birthday?” Derek asks in surprise. He thought Stiles was too much of a sleuth to not have that information of every single person in Beacon Hills. 

“No I don’t, Derek Samuel Hale.” Stiles says bitterly, like it was one of his life’s greatest unsolved mysteries. “It’s blacked out in the police database.” Derek lets out an amused chuckle at that. 

“December 25th” Derek has to work the words pass the fluttering in his chest, his wolf vibrating, embarrassingly pleased that Stiles has admitted his blind trust in the alpha. It’s been happening a lot today actually… Usually he rarely notices the nuances of his wolf side. Can easily ignore or control the baser emotions when he’s not shifted but it’s different with Stiles. As if his truer form is clawing to get to him, demanding more for this beta than it has for any other. Protect, provide, please… a mantra it’s desperately trying to fulfill. 

He’s not sure why. If it’s the worry about the foxfire, the loyalty he’s felt to the little human whose saved his life or the fact that Stiles is his emissary… Maybe he should be more concerned about it but he doesn’t feel uneasy. Especially when Stiles smiles down at their hands…

They arrive at the loft and Derek sighs, glaring at the closed door in irritation. “What?” Stiles asks. 

“Packs here.” 

Chapter Text

“Oh my god, you took forever!” Erica is sitting at the kitchen island, her arms leaning against the now clean countertop with a brownie held between her nails. Stiles smiles when he sees it, watches as she swivels on the bar stool to call up to the second floor.  “Boyd! Papa’s home!” 

“I told you not to call me that.” Derek says in exasperation a second before she bounds over to them. “Where’s Isaac?” 

“Argent’s.” Her attention falls down to Stiles as he raises his arms for a hug. “Hey Batman.” She purrs affectionately and moves to embrace him only to stop midway. Her narrowed eyes narrow even more, running over him suspiciously. “You’re hurt.” 

“No?” 

“Yes. You reek.” 

“Hey!” 

“Erica is a little more in tune with our physical wellbeing than most.” Derek explains. “Her senses are heightened to pain.” Stiles thinks that over, remembering her mid seizure on the gym floor and nods. 

“Huh… Makes sense.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” She demands, her hands falling down to rest on her hips. 

“What, you want a list?” 

“Only what’s hurting. I don’t have the time for a mental check in.” Stiles grins. 

“Just a stomachache.” He can feel Derek’s critical gaze on him a second before the alpha appears at his side, hand outstretched. 

“I’ll make you some tea. Go, sit down.” Stiles drops the cloth bag into his waiting palm, giving him a grateful smile as he claims a bar stool of his own. Erica’s face morphs into disbelief as she watches the alpha move into the kitchen. 

“You never make me tea!”

“Next time you have a stomachache I’ll be sure to.” Derek snaps back, his voice immediately turning hostile at the suggestion that she could feel any kind of human discomfort. 

“You don’t really want him to make you anything. The man can’t use a kitchen to save his life.” Boyd’s voice echos as he makes his way down the stairs, nodding a hello to Stiles as he joins them. 

"Hey Boyd.” 

“So you’re taking in human strays now?” Erica grumbles, reaching for another brownie. 

“He’s joining the pack.”

“I thought you were Scott’s boy…” Erica suddenly freezes, eyes lighting up as she spins to face Derek. “Oh my god. Did you steal him? Did we just miss an alpha fight?” 

“There was no fight. It’s Stiles’ choice. Now shut up. He’s hurt.” That does get Erica to shut up but Stiles thinks it might be the fact that even he can hear his own pounding heartbeat echoing in the large room.

He had gotten used to the pain, to the cold and oscillating beating in his chest. It had been easy to hide from Scott. Disappointingly easy. All he had to do was avoid touching the others, steady his breath like they did on the FBI videos and hide the shaking with the constant drumming of his fingers or tapping of his foot. He could pass a lie detector test without a problem and what was a bunch of chemo-signal sensitive werewolves but big, furry lie detectors? It worked. Had worked for months. Would probably have worked on Derek this morning if he had been awake enough or aware enough to realize that the alpha would check in on him … would care…

But Derek had already witnessed him having a full on meltdown. Stiles isn’t sure he has any pride or desire left to keep it from the pack… his pack. So he doesn’t. Just lets himself sit with the pain that has risen significantly in the time between the clinic and now. Erica almost looks sympathetic when he winces and lays his head onto the countertop, trying to push down the wave of nausea.

“That’s not a stomachache…” She says, voice softer, concerned and Stiles sighs when he hears the stovetop click on and Derek rushes back to his side to lay his hand against his neck. It’s the only bit of skin available now that he hugs his stomach. The material of his flannel covers his arms and wrist and collar and Stiles thinks it should be awkward, having the alpha’s fingers grazing against his ear, but he can only sigh at the warmth and relieving touch. 

“It’s been hurting since the Nogitsune.” He says into the marble surface, trying to avoid the look of worry and surprise that falls across both the beta’s faces. 

“That was-”

“Months ago! Thank you! I’m aware.” He snaps, instantly regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. “Sorry… Sorry. I know.” Derek’s fingers tighten slightly against him and he tries to ignore that too. He’s worried… The alpha werewolf is worried… 

“You finish the tea.” Erica says motioning Derek back to the kettle. “I’ll do this.” She reaches underneath the tabletop for Stiles’ hand, earning a grunt of surprise when the two werwolves switch places. 

“None of you have to do this. I’m not-” 

“We’re pack now! No one deals with crap like this alone you little punk. Get used to it.” She snaps.

“I’m older than you. What happened to respecting your elders?” Stiles is looking for a snarky response, hoping for it even but Erica’s face is now set in determination, her expression troubled as she watches the black veins race up her own arm. 

He lifts his head and opens his mouth to reassure her that he’s alright only to close it a second later. His relationship with Erica had been… complicated. His relationship with the entire Hale pack had been complicated. 

It hasn’t really been too long since Derek turned the betas but there’s been enough time for the feelings between Stiles and the trio to have developed from enemies to acquaintances to friends. In fact, had he been asked, Stiles could easily say he had bonded with Derek’s pack far more than he had ever had the desire or time to bond with Scott’s. 

He had liked Kira, liked Malia, as awkward as the two women were, but he didn’t know them. Not really. He imagined there could have been something deeper with the were-coyote given better circumstances but she had seemed far less interested in an emotional connection than she did a physical one and the call of the preserve had mattered more to her than any he could make on the phone. Kira rarely left Scott’s side long enough to share anything deeper than their class schedules and Aiden and Ethan had been… a choice. Stiles is grateful for their help during the problems with the Nogitsune but nothing they did could make up for their part in the alpha pack.

He didn’t trust the twins, didn’t know the others… Lydia had been his only real relationship within the band of misfits and he’s afraid that fallout wasn’t about to mend anytime soon. 

It had been easier with Derek’s betas, especially after Erica and Boyd had been taken by Gerard. He still remembers the look of disbelief and concern in their eyes when he had been thrown down into the basement. The worry when he shocked himself on the electric bindings. The pride at watching the human take the beating and torture and still not give up his pack… There had been a shift that day. Understanding. Trust.

Stiles isn’t sure if they ever told Derek what had happened but it was clear that they had at least told Issac. The blond had thanked him, hugged him and the camaraderie at school had increased because of it. Between that and all that had happened previously with Jackson a kinship had bloomed between the 4, one that had only been cemented when Boyd and Erica had been rescued from the vault. 

None of the Hale pack had seemed surprised when Stiles helped chase down the feral betas. And none had missed the opportunity to embrace him the morning after, when he showed up with extra clothes and offered them a ride to his house to clean up. No words had ever been said about it, none had been needed, not even then and Stiles can’t help but wonder if they had considered him pack at that point too...? Hell, they hadn’t ran when the Void appeared. 

In fact they were all right there alongside Derek, fighting off the oni, helping in the search for him. 

He had worried that things might have soured with Isaac. The teen had liked Scott, respected him even. There were moments Stiles had even thought he would have switched packs if anyone had asked. Of course that was before Allison. Before Isaac had started falling in love with the huntress and before Scott had taken the twins on as his own betas. The two people who had tormented Isaac at school and the two responsible for nearly having killed Boyd. 

No, there hadn’t been any going back after that. Isaac may spend most of his days with Chris now but its Derek’s pack he returns to at night. His loyalty to the alpha as steady as the day he had saved him from his abusive father… 

“Ugh!” Stiles groans as Derek stands over him with the freshly brewed tea. He has to stop himself from spitting out the drink, grimaces as it burns down his throat. “That’s disgusting!” 

“It’s medicine, it’s not supposed to taste good.” Derek doesn’t actually know if that’s true as he’s never been sick with a human illness a day in his life but he’s heard that’s the case. Stiles however looks miserably down at the cup. 

“It’s awful.” 

“Drink it.” Boyd and Erica lean against the counter now, watching the exchange. 

“It’s like dirty gym socks.” It smells worse than that. Smells worse than the entire locker room if Derek was being honest. He could barely stop himself from recoiling away from the stench the flowers gave off and he sympathizes with the thought of getting the tea anywhere close to his mouth; but he needs Stiles to drink it and if his betas are used to anything it’s tough love. 

“It can’t be that bad.” He lies, because he knows it definitely is.

“You drink it then.” 

“I’m not the one with a stomachache. Drink it.” Stiles frowns, second-guessing if the medicine is actually worth the promised relief when Derek slams a bottle of honey down onto the counter. “Here.” 

“You could add the whole hive and it wouldn’t help.” Stiles knows he’s whining, knows Erica and Boyd are snickering and that Derek is two seconds from loosing his temper but he hasn’t felt so happy in weeks. The drink is revolting and the pain feels like a knife cutting through his torso any time Derek moves away but he’s also prepared to milk this feeling for as long as possible. 

“Stiles!” Derek snarls dangerously. 

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m okay. Just need a nap-” He moves to stand and Derek’s palms clamp him back down. 

“I swear to god Stiles. You drink this on your own or I cool it off and force it down your throat.” 

“Ok! Ok. So violent. Jeez!” That sends Erica into a fit of laughter. Even Boyd smiles as the newest beta takes another long sip of the drink, only to stick is tongue out after in distaste. It’s enough for Derek to ease his hold on him at least. 

“So? How do human bonds work?” Erica asks as Stiles chokes through the contents. “If you don’t bite him how do we connect with him?” 

“He’ll give the oath, same as all of you and I do bite him. It’ll just be in this form and not enough to break the skin. His bond will be just like yours.” 

“I never did that with Scott.” 

“You were pack in name only with Scott. I’m not actually sure if he’s formed a true bond with any of his betas. What he has now, it’s enough for him to get a feeling of his pack but it’s not traditional in any sense of the word.” 

“So I’ll be able to feel you? The way all you feel me?” 

“It won’t be as strong, not without the bite, but you will be able communicate with us, share our emotions, even our pleasure and our pain. If that’s what you truly want. It’s not a requirement. Even if you decide you didn’t want the traditional bond you’re still pack.” 

“I do.” Stiles says automatically and Derek has to dig his nails into his palm to stop his wolf from growling in approval. 

“Is the tea working?” Erica asks suddenly. 

“I… Yeah. Actually.” 

“It doesn’t hurt?” 

“It’s… going away. Not as sharp. It’s mostly just feels sore now.”

Derek lets his fingers slide against the nape of his neck once more and nods, relieved. “Good.” 

“So you’re going to bind him now?” 

“I’m going to have him sleep for ten hours and then we can decide on the bond. There’s no rush.” 

“I’m not tired.” 

“You’re full of shit.” Derek hisses. “Go lay down.” 

“No.” 

“Stiles-”

“Look here Sourwolf. Just because I’m joining your pack doesn’t mean you get to boss me around. Not like this. If that’s the kind of alpha you want to be, your shit out of luck. I’ll promise to protect the pack, not come running at every snap of your fingers. I’m not a slave. I’m not sleeping. I’m not tired.” 

“You’re not a slave but you are hurt and if you’re not going to take care of yourself then yes, it’s my job to do it for you.” Derek says icily back. “And pack or not, you’re not leaving here until I’m sure you’re okay.” 

“You two fight like my grandparents.” Boyd’s voice is serious in the background, face neutral as they all turn to look at him. “It’s kinda nice. Like watching ma and pa.” 

Stiles isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting Derek to have at that. Roaring, yelling, slamming things… Having one of the betas call them an old married couple wasn’t exactly what Stiles had in mind when he thought of his introduction to the pack; and he braced himself for the tantrum that he had been stoking for the better part of a day when Derek finally sighs, turning to him with such a look of misery you would have thought he had just totaled the Camaro. 

“Stiles please. Warning bells have been going off with you since this morning and now they’re finally quiet. For my own sanity, please just rest.” That… was unexpected. Was surprisingly… sweet. And totally unfair! The 6 foot tall, 200 pounds of pure muscled alpha shouldn’t be able to look like a kicked puppy! All wide green eyes and pouting lips. Hell, all he needed was his sad little wolf ears and tail tucked down behind him. It was infuriating! Unreasonable! And working… 

“F-Fine…” Stiles mumbles unhappily, purposefully ignoring Erica’s gleeful smile as relief washes over Derek’s face. “I’ll lay down but I’m not sleeping.” 

“Thank you.” That sends another wave of shock over Stiles and he turns quickly to the mattress, not sure how to handle any more surprises from the alpha right now. 

Erica suddenly takes his arm, rushing him over to the bed and pulling him down on top of her. “Puppy pile!” She cries out, wrapping him in a cocoon of blankets and limbs. 

“Hey!” 

“Boyd!” She snaps from over Stiles’ shoulder. “Get over here!” 

“Wait! What are you doing?” 

“Pack bonding.” She coos, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. Stiles pushes against her, unsurprised when she doesn’t budge. It’s like trying to move an anvil, every bit of her body as hard and muscled as a marble sculpture and he has to catch his breath from the way she squeezes his arms down to his side. It should be embarrassing but he can’t quite make himself worry about anything other than the fact that neither have taken off their shoes. He’s just about to scold her for it, trying to slink his head down off her shoulder and onto the pillow when Boyd joins them. 

Stiles gasps from the sudden bend of the bed, the mattress flattening to the floor as the third beta lays down. He’s now effectively sandwiched between Erica’s chest and Boyd’s left side, his face suffocated by a blanket of blond hair. “You’re heavy!” He wheezes, trying to shake the tendrils out of his mouth and Erica growls in response, scenting him as she pulls him tightly to her. 

“And you’re all soft, like a teddy bear. Boyd, make sure his back is covered. I forgot how cold humans get.” Boyd grunts in acknowledgement, jerking the blanket up and tighter around him and Stiles doesn’t know whether to be honored or horrified that Vernon Boyd is tucking him into bed. 

“Derek!” Stiles calls out pathetically. “Come get your puppies!” 

“Sorry. Busy.” Derek says from the kitchen a hint of amusement in his voice and Stiles can hear the refrigerator door open. “Unless you guys want to live off brownies I have to go to the store. Erica, you’re in charge.” 

“What?! Why her?” 

“I trust her to keep you in that bed.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back in an hour. Erica, if the pain comes back, make him some more tea.” 

“Okay daddy.” 

He gives her a seething look that only makes her grin and then Stiles hears the front door slide shut. 

“You guys don’t have to do this.” Stiles says. “Seriously, I’m fine. Derek’s gone now.” 

“And seriously, this is pack bonding.” Erica counters. “We all cuddle up like this. Well… except Derek. Haven’t gotten him in the pile yet but it’s a work in progress.” She does loosen her hold on him, letting Stiles straighten himself out and find a comfortable position on his side before wrapping an arm around his waist again. “It’s actually the best part of being in a pack if you ask me. Didn’t you guys do this in Scott’s?” 

They hadn’t. 

Stiles has never been averse to touches, in all actuality he’s a pretty clingy guy when it comes to people he cares about. A hugger ‘till the very end, but he can’t imagine Scott being in the center of a cuddle pile, not with the pack he has now. The thought of the twins scrunched up at his side was laughable. And Lydia would never sacrifice her name-brand clothes to wrinkles and lint. Kira probably wouldn’t have minded but there was no way Malia would have trusted any of them enough to relax outside her den. They were pack but they weren’t wolves. They didn’t follow the same dynamics, the dynamics that Stiles had just spent several months becoming an expert in. 

He hadn’t really meant to. Of course he had fallen down the rabbit hole when Scott first received the bite but he hadn’t had the resources he has now. Besides the hundreds of hours of wolf videos on Youtube and the vast volumes of National Geographic he also had Chris and Deaton and even, occasionally Peter to answer any of his questions. Mix that and any excuse to keep himself from the nightmares and pain and delirium and he had hyper-fixated so hard that his computer was basically a how-to manual on how to be a werwolf. 

He knew how important bonding was. The gestures and signals and sounds of the pack… He understood the pecking order of the betas and the omegas, the loyalty of the family and significance of a mate. But the definition of pack was something that went much deeper than he could have ever imagined on his own. A loyalty and bond so fierce and strong and loving that loosing a member was to loose a part of yourself. Derek had said so earlier, that when one hurt, they all did. They were an extension of each other, one solid and unyielding unit. And Stiles imagines this is what it feels like. Now as he rests between Erica and Boyd with the worry vibrating off them… he knows they’re not only using the pile as an excuse to check his pain levels but also to offer him comfort. 

The way Erica’s hold on him is firm and possessive and Boyd’s muscled arm sits warm and reassuring between his shoulder blades. They were giving him heat and safety and protection. Trying to heal an injured member in the way an actual pack of wolves would. He’s acutely aware they’re keeping vigil over him, and the level of concern causes a swell of affection to rise to his chest. He focuses on that feeling, chews over the realization of how strong their relationship is even now, until Erica’s voice breaks through his thoughts. 

“You know, Derek is strict but he’s never mean, He doesn’t actually think of you as someone he can boss around…” Stiles stills as that, his eyes staring straight into her collarbone. “He worries a lot, about all of us. Especially since me and Boyd got taken. He was so stressed until you said the tea worked. Usually he’s better at hiding it but it was bleeding off him when he took your pain. Don’t get too mad at him, okay?” 

“…Okay.” Stiles had known he didn’t mean it. He knows Derek cares no matter how badly he is at showing it but he had never heard her defend the alpha so strongly. She joked and bickered and teased him more than any of the betas but Stiles has a sinking suspicion that she was probably closer to him than any of the others. “Do you guys always come here for the puppy pile?” 

“Yeah. The longer you're in the pack the more natural it feels. Actually, it's almost painful to be out of contact with each other for too long and even if Derek doesn’t join the actual cuddle session we still need to be around him. Scenting helps when we can’t be together. I feel bad thinking about omegas… like, there’s this actual, evolutionary desire to be with a group of your own and they can’t? Not sure how Derek did it for so long. I can barely stand it when Boyd’s gone for over an hour.” 

“If it can get that painful why doesn’t Derek join?” 

“He doesn’t feel like he deserves it.” Boyd says in his calm, factual tone and that makes Stiles’ heart sink to his stomach. 

“Why?” The beta shrugs. 

“He thinks all the bad shit that’s happened to us is his fault. He never considered himself a good alpha no matter what we tell him and I think it’s his way of punishing himself.” Erica nods in agreement. 

“He’d never do anything to deny us what we need. He’ll scent us and heal us and does this weird… calming, grumbly thing when we’re stressed out but he never initiates anything for himself. I cling to him all the time and he’ll just stand there all cranky and broody until I let go.” 

Stiles frowns, thinking about the day and how often Derek had reached for him. The scenting, the holding, taking away the pain all provided Stiles with relief but Derek didn’t linger. Didn’t touch him for anything more than easing the hurt away. If what the beta’s were saying was true then it definitely was punishment. For a werewolf, an alpha, to deny himself one of their most basic fundamental needs must have been painful.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Erica says as way of an apology and Stiles startles when he realizes he’s been frowning the whole time. “I just wanted you to know that Derek can come off as a bit of an ass but no matter what, he’s always in your corner.  And now, we are too. Got it? ” Stiles smiles and then lifts his head, touching her nose with his cheek in his own attempt at scenting and she gasps in surprise before squeezing him again. 

“Ow!” 

“Sorry!” 

Derek has been sitting on the spiral staircase for over an hour before Erica wakes. He watches the three of them, his betas sleeping contently on the king sized bed, his eyes unblinking as she untangles herself from around the human. 

“Sourwolf?” She teases as she tiptoes over to him. Derek’s jaw tightens as he shakes his head. 

“I think I prefer you calling me papa.”

“Oh. I see. Sourwolf is just his huh?” It’s not said as a joke and he doesn’t contradict her. She grins, the silence enough of an answer before she looks back over to Stiles. “What really happened to him?”

“Not sure. Deaton said it was residual foxfire. It took me grabbing his wrist for him to actually admit it was there.” 

“Derek… you’re born wolf so I don’t think you understand just how much it was for a human. I can say this because I have a memory of it. The amount of pain he was in… it was a lot. Like from a scale of 1-10 it hit a 15. I’d black out from the ictal pain from my seizures when it got to an 8.” Derek’s face falls. 

“I knew it was bad but-”

“He shouldn’t be walking Derek. He shouldn’t be conscious at this point.” He winces. 

“And now?” 

“He’s alright. I’ve been checking him every 30 minutes or so. He’s probably at a 4. It was a 2 right after the tea.” 

“Its going up.” 

“Slowly.” They fall silent, turning to look back at the bed. “Is he going to be okay?” 

“Deaton said it would get better.” It’s all he can give her at the moment and she nods in understanding. “I’ll talk to his dad and see if I can get him to hang around here a little more in case we need to take the pain. At school though…” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll watch him. I’ll tell Isaac about it too.” 

“You think Issac will be up for helping? I know how close he was to Allison.” Derek says carefully, watching as her eyebrows furrow. 

“He doesn’t blame Stiles! How could anyone blame Stiles?” 

“Ask Scott.” He doesn’t mean to say it but he’s not exactly sorry either as she looks back at him incredulously. 

“That’s why he changed packs?” 

“Scott kicked him out.” Anger. The same rage he himself had felt falls over her in an instant and he stands, scenting her cheek to calm her. “Doesn’t matter. He’s home now and he wouldn’t want you to do anything about it.” 

“But he-”

“I know. Believe me. I know.” She sighs in defeat. 

“Fucking idiot.” Derek nods in agreement. “I’m going to take Boyd home, see if Isaac is at the apartment. I know I’m rushing but I think you should bond him Derek. More so we can all keep an eye on him than anything. And honestly? I think he needs to feel it too. He’s lonely.” Derek nods again and she gives him a hug before reaching for Boyd. 

They make quick, silent work of gathering their things and leaving, careful not to wake Stiles as they go and Derek has never felt so grateful or proud of his pack as he does right now. The  bonds are humming in contentment, all betas healthy and safe and accounted for as he pulls on each tether. A ritual he’s found himself doing absentmindedly since Boyd and Erica returned and it causes a happy ache in his chest. 

He wants to shift, to run. It’s an itch he’s had for a while but it’s gotten stronger now that he’s been able to appease some of the demands he’s given himself. Stiles’ pain is manageable. He’s sleeping. The betas have bonded and he’s been able to provide them all with food and shelter. It doesn’t feel like it should mean as much as it does but his alpha side is practically giddy with relief. 

Slowly Derek walks back over to Stiles’ side and gently touches his wrist. The cold is mostly gone now and the pain itself doesn’t feel too bad but as Erica has pointed out, he’s not the best judge when it comes to humans. Still, he doesn’t want to wake him. There hasn’t been any nightmares yet and he’s sure it’s been weeks since the beta’s slept a whole night through. It’s barely 6 but if all goes well Stiles will sleep until morning. 

Derek does shift, letting his full wolf form breathe. Shaking his head, feeling the cool concrete under the pads of his paws, listening to the rumble of cars and city lights in the distance. He doesn’t let himself do it often, not here in the city limits but it does help temper the desire for open space. 

He trots around the loft for a moment, taking note of the locked door and windows before turning and jumping softly up onto the foot of the bed. Stiles mumbles incoherently at the added weight only to fall silent once more. 

Derek doesn’t dare get too close. He doesn’t want to wake the beta and he can’t imagine having a hulking black mass next to him when he does open his eyes will help with any future nightmares. Instead he curls up as much as he can next to Stiles' feet, laying his foreleg gently down on an exposed ankle between shoe and jeans. He siphons what little pain is there, listens to the rhythmic breathing and closes his own eyes to let sleep take him. 

Chapter Text

“Here.” Derek says, tossing the brown paper bag onto Stiles’ lap. 

Stiles looks up at him in surprise, turning his attention away from the chessboard to open the package and his eyes light up when the smell of bacon and eggs hit his nose. 

“You bought me breakfast?” 

“I didn’t see you eat anything yesterday. I don’t know what Deaton will have you do but magic is supposed to drain your energy. Eat.” 

“What do you mean? I had like two brownies yesterday.” Derek’s eyes narrow. Unimpressed. 

“The epitome of a well balanced meal.” He deadpans, sitting down next to the beta on the couch."Eat." Stiles grins as he unfolds the breakfast sandwich, pushing the board game off towards the side of the coffee table to make room. He doesn't usually eat breakfast… He doesn't usually eat anything now that the pain likes to accumulate in his abdomen. But today he had woken to an empty loft, a coffee mug of rancid tea and a note on the dresser that just said “Be back soon. Drink.”

The pain had lulled to a dull ache by the time he had showered and stripped the bed to toss a load of sheets in Derek’s washing machine. He spent the rest of the early morning in a heated game of solo chess and texting his dad to let him know he’d been working on something new with Derek’s pack. The first was not going well, the second had Noah calling, sounding much more excited and relieved than he had in a long time. 

Stiles isn’t an idiot. He knows how much the possession from the Nogitsune has effected his father. He can see the worry lines and heavy bags under his eyes now. Can practically hear the desperate tone Noah uses while he searches for topics and conversations that wouldn’t have the teen falling into a panicked spiral. It had been a hard adjustment, and while the nightmares and red rimmed eyes had scared the sheriff, it was the fact that Stiles wasn’t out and about, chasing Beacon Hills’ newest nightmare of the week that had the man terrified for his son’s wellbeing. 

Now Noah had seemed almost giddy when he called to ask what was wrong with Derek. Stiles had to explain that there wasn’t any monsters, just a weird ‘magic thing’ they wanted to check out with Deaton. Specifics be damned. It had been enough to please him at any rate. Telling Stiles to stay safe but to do what he needed and have fun with his friends. Friends… 

Pack. 

It makes him smile. Erica and Boyd must have left sometime during the night but he doesn’t remember anything other than the feeling of warmth and safety as the two betas had held him. He had felt content then, and feels content now as he bites down into the bagel, realizing just how hungry he actually is. 

Derek watches him for a minute, a pleased look on his face that lasts the amount of time it takes him to gaze around the room. “What were you doing?” He asks suspiciously, trying to take stock as to why it feels different. 

“Playing chess.” Stiles murmurs around mouthfuls of food. 

“Alone?” 

“There’s no better chess player in Beacon Hills.” Stiles says with a shrug, smiling as he looks down at the game. “Didn’t even know you owned a board to be honest.”

“It’s new.” Derek says distractedly, his eyes settling on the bare mattress before he turns to look critically at him again. “I meant what did you do to the bed?” 

“I’m doing laundry.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Stiles freezes mid bite, his brain actually short-circuiting because of all the damn things he thought he could do to get Derek Hale upset, washing a load of bedding was not one of them. He hadn’t even realized he might be overstepping some invisible line between him and his alpha. 

“Am…Am I not allowed?” He asks in all seriousness and Derek’s face softens. 

“You’re allowed but I meant why would you?” 

“What do you mean why would I?” Stiles’ eyes widen. “Don’t tell me you have a maid?” Derek never really had much to clean now that Stiles thinks it over. The loft was a minimalist's dream, even after Erica had begun adding to it. Always impeccably kept. As if he were waiting to show off an open house at a moments notice. Stiles doesn’t picture Derek rushing around the apartment with cleaning gloves and mop but trusting someone outside the pack to enter into the building didn’t seem right either. 

“No.” Derek says, bemused. “No maid. 

“You do all your own cleaning?” 

“It’s only me Stiles. How much of a mess do you think I make?” 

“You had a full house yesterday.” 

“The betas know how to clean up after themselves.” Stiles makes a flailing motion, eyes widening in confusion. 

“Am I not your beta? What do you think I’m doing? I’ve commandeered your bed twice now. The least I can do is wash the sheets.” Derek rolls his eyes in exasperation. 

“You’re not supposed to clean.” 

“You just said your betas-.” 

“You’re injured Stiles!” Derek snaps. “You’re not supposed to do anything. I’ll do laundry, the others will pick up the chores. You’re supposed to eat and sleep and heal.” Stiles scoffs.

“I’m not injured Der. It’s not like I’m bleeding out across the floor.” 

“You’re right, it’s worse. At least I know how to stop something from bleeding…”  Derek says, his face settling into a frown. The words make Stiles freeze, eyes softening as he looks over his alpha. He imagines Erica would say Derek smells wrong right now. Worried and the conversation with the betas comes back in a rush. He thinks all the bad shit that’s happened to us is his fault. Did he really somehow blame himself for not being able to stop this? 

“Der, I’m okay. Really. You can check if you want.” He holds his hand out only to watch Derek’s jaw clench and his face turn away. 

“I know you’re okay. You aren’t pale right now.” Stiles sighs. 

“Then I promise I won’t go Molly Maids on you, okay? I’m just washing the sheets. It’s not even me, I technically just put them in and push a button. Scouts honor, whenever I need to beat my laundry on a rock I’ll let the big strong alpha do it.” Derek’s frown deepens. “Come on man, I’ll go insane if I just sit here waiting for the clinic to open. I need to do something to keep myself busy… Look! I’m playing a competitive game with myself! That’s not normal.” He exclaims, motioning widely to the chess game. “Sane people don’t do this! I’m timing myself.” He holds up his phone, pressing the screen on and showing off the stopwatch. “Look, I’m taking minutes. I’m loosing my mind.” 

Derek shakes his head but Stiles can see his lips twitch up into a small smile. It’s a win. Never mind that solo chess is a perfectly reasonable way of practicing the game, Derek doesn’t know that. Stiles is sure he doesn’t know anything about chess in all actuality but he refuses to let him feel guilty about something that definitely isn’t his fault. “Want a bite?” He asks to keep the conversation going and away from the elephant in the room. He lifts his sandwich slightly up towards Derek who only shakes his head. 

“You barely eat as it is. Finish your food. We’ll leave when you’re done.” 

“The clinic doesn’t open until noon.” 

“Which is why we should go when he doesn’t have clients. I assume Scott won’t be there either.” Stiles nods. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t work at all today but you’re right.” Stiles looks down at his breakfast, suddenly no longer hungry and Derek turns to him, eyes sweeping over him clinically. 

“Stiles.” He says, “It’s going to be okay.” 

Stiles startles at that, meeting his steady gaze. “Yeah…” He believes him. Or at least, believes that Derek believes it and he relaxes slightly. “Thanks big guy.” 

Derek nods. “And for future reference, you never need my permission to do anything here. You’re my beta. It’s my duty to provide for the five of you. Whatever you want or need you use.” Stiles can’t stop himself from grinning at that. Who knew Derek Hale could be charming?  He’s not sure how to respond so he falls to the tried and true method of humor. 

“Even the Camaro?” Derek’s face hardens instantly. 

“Absolutely not.” Stiles laughs. 

“Now concentrate Stiles. Picture yourself holding a flame in your hand and guide it onto the wick.” Stiles frowns down at the candle, his arm shaking with the exertion. He’s not sure how long it’s been since they started the exercise but he’s tired. Really. Fucking. Tired. Derek hadn’t been joking when he said magic was supposed to drain you. He hadn’t even been able to use any of it and it already feels like he’s run ten laps underwater. 

“It’s not working Deaton.” He finally says, letting his trembling hand fall back down to his side. 

“If you keep telling yourself you can’t do it it’ll never work.” 

“Or it won’t work because you’re wrong about me.” Stiles responds, voice hardening in frustration. It hurts. Everything hurts. The cold and the stabbing pain had started up again, the ripping sensation of his insides pulsing every time he stretches his hand over the variety of objects that sit on the metal table. He’s tried paying attention, tried doing what the druid asked but each attempt leaves him colder and colder. His heart thundering against his chest so quickly he thinks it might burst. 

“I’m not wrong Stiles, you have magic.” 

“Then it isn’t the kind of magic that lights a damn candle!” He snaps. 

“All magic can light a candle. The test is to ascertain which magic you use to do it.” 

“I can’t.” He grounds out through clenched teeth. “You’re not listening! It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I physically can’t. It’s not… letting me.” 

“The fox fire shouldn’t have a problem with this. I’m afraid the only thing holding you back right now is your fear of using it.” Stiles says nothing, just looks miserably down at the floor and Deaton sighs. “That’s it isn’t it? You’re afraid?”

“Of course I am!” He snarls, eyes snapping back up to glare at him. 

“You need to let that go Stiles.” 

“That’s enough!” Derek snarls. “You said there were different ways of testing it. This isn’t working. Do something else.” Deaton looks at him in exasperation. 

“Derek, if he’s not able to-”

“You think bullying him into it is going to help? He’s terrified and you know damn well he has every reason to be. Don’t act as if that thing didn’t scare you. Try something else.” He says darkly. 

Stiles is grateful, so damn grateful. He turns to look at him, hoping he can somehow convey the appreciation he’s feeling and Derek seems to read enough of it because he gives him a small nod. 

“Alright.” Deaton finally says. “Then we’ll try something in the realm of healing. I will need your assistance Derek.” 

Derek’s moving before he finishes speaking, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it gently over Stiles’ as he passes him. He gives the beta a reassuring squeeze on the arm before falling at the druids side, rolling the material of his shirt up to his elbow in one fluid movement. Stiles fumbles with the jacket, trembling as he hurries to put his arms through the sleeves. Warmth immediately envelopes him, relief rushing through his skin at the contact. 

“We’ll see if you’re able to utilize any runes to heal a cut.” Stiles watches the druid turn to the worktable behind him, lifting the large scalpel from the tray and he feels his stomach drop. 

“No! Don’t do that.” 

“It’ll only be a small incision-”

“It’s covered in wolfsbane.” Stiles argues. 

“Well… yes. Otherwise the wound would heal too fast for you to try anything.” 

“You’re not touching him with that!” Derek looks at him in surprise. He knew there was wolfsbane, knew it before Deaton had even spoke. The smell had hit him the minute he had walked into the room but a small cut wouldn’t really effect him. Nothing more than some mild paralysis and burning sensations at the site. He had also known Deaton could cure it. Stiles had to have known too but the beta had such a look of concern the druid may as well have been threatening him with the electric chair. 

“Stiles, it’s okay.” He says gently, but Stiles shakes his head. 

“In what world is that okay? It’s poison Derek!” Stiles turns an accusing finger to Deaton. “You’re about to poison him. Poison. Do you realize how insane that sounds?” 

“I have the antidote on hand. I’ll even give it you to administer if you’d like.” 

“I’m not going to need it because you’re not going to it. I don’t care what magic it is anymore. We’re done here. I quit.” 

“Stiles, I’m fine. It’s like a paper cut to me. I’m not-”

“You might not remember what it was like the last time you had wolfsbane in your arm Derek but I sure as hell do!” Oh… OH! Derek looks back down at his forearm and the memory of a slightly younger and far more worried Stiles comes rushing back to him. They had been standing across the metal table then too, when Kate’s Nordic Blue bullet had nearly killed him. Derek had never really thought back on the event, no more than the gratefulness that Scott had been able to retrieve it, but now he feels guilty as he realizes how traumatic it must have been for Stiles. The one who had stayed with him, watched him… been prepared to perform an amputation on him. Young, human Stiles who had hated him almost as much as he had hated the sight of blood and yet had still been willing to do anything to save his life.  

“It’s not the same thing.” He murmurs, trying to console him. “That was a different strand-” 

“I don’t care.” Stiles hisses. Then to Deaton. “Don’t do it.” 

Deaton watches him in amusement, scalpel hovering in the air above Derek’s forearm. Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever wanted to punch the druid as much as he does right now. The fact that he hasn’t yet dropped the blade leaves Stiles on high alert, his senses sharpening to a hundred. The pain alights inside him, spreading from his core to his limbs, small electrical currents humming along his veins. He tries to breathe through it, wills the beating in his chest to steady, knowing he has to focus. He doesn’t trust Deaton. Derek doesn’t trust Deaton and every part of his body is thrumming in warning that something bad is about to happen. “It’s barely more than a scratch.” 

“So is a hangnail until you get a staph infection. Put it down!” 

“He’s an alpha.” 

“He could be the reincarnated body of Fenrir. It’s still no!” 

“You’re worried about your alpha?” 

“What kind of question…” Stiles flounders in disbelief, motioning frantically at the space between the two of them. “You two have been at each other’s throats since the moment we got here and now you have a scalpel laced in wolfsbane on him. What the fuck do you think?” 

“You honestly believe I would intentionally harm him?” Stiles doesn’t reply but the silence is answer enough. Deaton turns to look at Derek, motioning down to the blade. “I do have your permission to find out what kind of magic he has do I not?” 

Derek has to tare his eyes back to the druid. The fierceness of Stiles’ face rendering him speechless. He knows Stiles is loyal, had known the moment he offered a place within the pack that Stiles would give him the same allegiance he had given Scott. It’s different seeing it though. Feeling the sudden devotion and protectiveness wash over the smaller human. He’s…honored. Grateful… Happy. “Y-Yes.” 

Deaton nods, face calm and carefree, and then... the scalpel is piercing down, straight through Derek’s arm. 

“DON’T!” Stiles screams as Derek growls out in surprise. 

Deaton is suddenly flung back against the concrete wall. The vet lets out a pained grunt as medical supplies and machinery splay out around him and Derek looks back up at Stiles to see the beta’s eyes burning in a silvery glow. Delicate threads of smoke-like tendrils wrap around his human, platinum sparks crackling through the air and emitting from his outstretched hand like shimmering glints of starlight. 

The air turns chilled. A nebula of frosted particles and frozen fractals spreading outward from Stiles’ being and painting slowly over the surfaces before him. They crawl over windowpanes and metal tables and the concrete floor. Derek sees the puff of condensation from his breath. The arctic blast of charged air passing by him like a gust of wind. Then it's gone. 

Stiles’ eyes flash back to honeyed brown and his face stutters between terror and relief as the ribbons of magic evaporate from sight. 

Derek rushes forward just as his legs buckle from the sudden drain of energy. Hands wrapping around his arms to keep him upright. The beta is pale, panting and shaking from fading adrenaline but the pain is gone. The cold is gone. Derek isn’t sure what to feel about that as Stiles leans against him. 

“Spark.” Deaton’s breathless voice says from the clinic floor. “He’s a Spark.” 

Derek meets Stiles’ distraught gaze as the vet struggles to stand back up. “This is… excellent news.” They both let out a furious snarl in reply, turning from one another to glare at him. 

“The fuck was that Deaton!” Stiles spits. His voice shaking and hands grasping Derek’s in an attempt to keep himself grounded. 

“I do apologize but it was the most… efficient test.” Derek takes a moment to rip the scalpel out of his arm, tossing it down to the Druids feet. Blood seeps up and out of the wound and Stiles’ eyes widen impossibly more. He looks wildly around the room, seeing a roll of gauze on the desk and grabs it, pressing the fabric down against Derek’s skin. 

Derek knows this is the very last thing he wants to do. Stiles still hates blood, still gets sick from the sight of it but Derek also realizes he’s doing everything in his power not to bolt out the door. Even if that means playing nurse right now. It’s a distraction and maybe an excuse to keep the contact with him and Derek is glad for it. Welcomes it. He’s too worried about the sickly green color on the betas face to let him anywhere further than an arms reach away.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently, trying to meet the other’s eyes but Stiles doesn’t look up. Only gives a curt not as he works to stem the flow of blood. “Stiles?” 

“I didn’t… I couldn’t stop it.” He murmurs, the spike of fear heavy in his voice. 

“I assumed if I goaded you enough you’d let it break through.” Deaton says apologetically. “I’m sorry Stiles. I knew you wouldn’t use your magic for yourself. You would however, risk it for your alpha.” 

Stiles glares up at him, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

He’d kill him. Derek decides. He’d kill the druid for scaring Stiles this way. For causing the heartbreaking look to fall on his betas face. “You said a spark is a belief-” Stiles has to force the words out through gritted teeth. 

“It’s an eponym, named after the actual Spark mages. Druids harness the power of nature as a catalyst for their magic. Witches rely on spells and incantations. Sparks however create magic entirely from their own will. They do not rely on a primary source. They are the primary source.” 

“But you said when I made the mountain ash-”

“A ‘spark’ is a real thing Stiles. There are thousands of instances that state if you believe in something strong enough you can will it into existence. Even those with no other magical abilities have been able to do so if their faith is strong enough. You wanted to help your pack so much you were able to harness a spark. I did not know you were a Spark yourself.” 

“I’ve never heard of a Spark.” Derek says. 

“You wouldn’t. They were believed to have died out centuries ago.” 

“Then how can you be sure that’s what I am?” 

“You didn’t draw your power from anything. You didn’t speak a spell or use a rune or grasp at any of the herbs that are in this room. With the mountain ash, you were merely extending the magic the tree had already provided. But now, now you acted on instinct. You created the pulse that pushed me back purely out of your own anger. I’m certain you are a Spark.” Stiles frowns, his fingers remaining tightly pressed over Derek’s injury. “This is all very good news. It means you are able to release the magic any time you need. Any moment you feel the pain become too much. All you have to do is imagine where you want your magic to go and what you want your magic to do and it should work. You feel better now do you not?” 

Stiles doesn’t respond, only glares at him harder. 

“In regards to magic, yours is limitless Stiles. I’m sure that encompasses healing as well…” The vet motions back down to Derek’s arm and Stiles shakes his head furiously. 

“You think I’m going to trust my corrupted, uncontrollable power to heal him?” 

“It’s good practice-”

“The next time you practice anything on him Deaton I’m going to imagine you hanging over a vat of boiling oil! I told you I was done!” Stiles spits out, clutching Derek’s arm so possessively Derek feels the human’s nails digging into the gauzy fabric. Deaton holds his hands up in surrender. 

“I apologize, I would never have actually hurt him.” 

“You did hurt him! It’s wolfsbane!” 

“He’s an alpha. Even without the antidote, it would have been gone by tomorrow morning.” 

“You think that makes it hurt less!?” Stiles is shaking in anger and Derek has to swallow pass the warmth and feeling of gratitude it brings. He reaches, laying his hand gently over Stiles’ and growls quietly in the space between them. It’s meant to be soothing and Stiles closes his eyes when he hears it, pulling in deep, calming breaths as he tries to focus on the sounds. 

“So we know what he is.” Derek says after a moment, returning his attention to the vet who is watching them with raised eyebrows. “What now?” 

“I can teach him to utilize his magic. Right now he’s reacting off emotions and pure instinct but given the proper training he should be able to harness the ability any time he wishes. Just as you are able to shift any time you need to.”

“You still expect me to use it?” I could have killed you!” 

“I venture to say it was the anger that made your magic act out defensively but other emotions should have other results. It’s something you’ll have to work through. It’s expected to feel irritable as lingering effects from the Nogitsune. Have you been feeling short tempered? Unreasonably angry with people?” Scott… He means Scott. Stiles recoils, his face twisted between angered and hurt but Deaton only smiles back calmly. 

“I understand you and Scott have had a falling out Stiles but I think it would be wise to tell him about all of this. He could help. Especially if the two of you could clear the air.” 

“No.” 

“He’s been a good friend to you in the past.” 

“So you’re an expert on our relationship now?” Stiles asks harshly. 

“I know he cares about you. As his friend I’d like to see if we can-”

“Friend?” Derek cuts in. “What, emissary was too big of a word for him to give you?” Derek’s had enough. Enough of the druid poking at Stiles’ wounds. Enough of seeing his beta’s face shutter between all the wrong emotions. Stiles is scared and angry and hurt and though Derek had promised himself that he would try not to interfere he can’t contain his own outrage any longer. Deaton had hurt him. Had hurt Stiles more than necessary. Bringing up Scott is the last straw. 

Deaton’s smile falters. “I have already been given the title of emissary… to the Hale pack.” 

“My mother’s, not mine. You have never given me the oath. Let’s not pretend your loyalties lie any closer to me than they do to Scott. Stiles holds that title now.” 

“I swore to Talia I would serve the Hale family with my dying breath.” 

“And it is that promise alone that gives you any credence.” He growls darkly, stepping close enough to Stiles he can feel the human’s arm brushing against his own. “If you really wish to keep your word you’ll do anything Stiles asks of you. Because as of yesterday he’s joined my pack and now I welcome him into the Hale family.” 

“Der…” Stiles whispers. Shock and disbelief and affection all rolling through him at the same time. Derek stiffens at the wave of emotions, tightens his fists at his sides and watches Deaton’s calm face shutter. 

“It’s not quite like you to correlate the family with the pack Derek.” 

“There was a time you would have rejoiced in me correlating the two.” 

“I don’t think-”

“Or are you just upset I’ve given my emissary more than my mother ever gave hers?” Deaton’s eyes harden and Derek is pleased by it. The indignation looks better on him than it does on Stiles at any rate. “You’ve been bitter towards Stiles for joining the pack since the moment you heard about it. Tell me, are you that jealous of an eighteen year old, or do you just miss how much my mother stroked your ego?”

“Your mother-”

“Loved you. Enough to bring you into the pack. Not enough to bring you into the family.” Stiles presses against him, hand laying gently on his bicep in a show of comfort. Of support. Derek anchors himself to the feeling of it, calms himself under his touch. “I’m sure you blame my father for the little wrench in your plan but it didn’t work for her and it doesn’t work for me. You will never be a Hale.” 

“Your mother was never unfaithful-”

“I don’t care.” Derek growls lowly, eyes shimmering red. “Whatever you two were, whatever she did. I don’t care. The truth is I don’t give a shit why you made her that promise. The fact is you did. So abide by it. Stiles is my emissary and now part of the Hale family. You help him. You keep your mouth shut about Scott or we’ll find someone else who will.” Deaton finally has the sense to look chastised.

“Do you really think you’re the only one who has remained loyal to the original pack? I may not be the alpha my mother was Deaton. Not by a long shot, but I have earned their respect. I came here because I think she would have wanted me to try to and make amends with you but don’t make the mistake of thinking that we’re close. There is no kinship between us. So do your job. Use this to appease whatever memory of her you like to flirt with. I don’t care. But the next time you say anything to hurt him, will be the last time you’re able to speak at all.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence, anger and frustration wrapping the air so heavily it's nearly palpable. “The only thing I’m asking for is the antidote for his arm.” Stiles eventually says, breaking the stare the two are holding. “We’re done for today. Give me the antidote and we’ll go.” 

Deaton sighs, dropping his hands down in acquiescence . He turns to the reach for the cabinets on the wall, retrieving a vile of ashes. Stiles holds his hand out for it, knowing Derek isn’t going to let the druid anywhere close to him right now. He’d sooner let the wolfsbane wear off than willingly take anything from the man. Deaton drops it into his hand and address Stiles. 

“I am trying to help you.” Stiles looks at him critically. 

“No. You’re trying to help Scott.” 

“I can teach you how to control your magic but the less anger you have inside you the easier it will be. If you can practice forgiveness-”

“You know Deaton, I had control. I lived in control. Organized chaos and insurmountable control was kind of the Void’s M.O. And you know what I learned in mental lockup with him? Control is overrated.” 

Chapter Text

“Are you alright?” They ask at the the same time. Derek’s face scrunches incredulously as they stand in the middle of the loft, his eyes scanning over the pale and trembling body before him. 

“Me?” He asks dumbly. 

“Yeah you! You going to tell me why the town druid thought he could win a pissing contest against you?” 

“He’s mad you’re in my pack.” 

“Funnily enough I was able to piece that little bit together on my own. I meant why?” 

“I’ll tell you but sit down first. You look like you’re ready to drop. Are you hurting?” Stiles lets his shoulders relax before shaking his head. 

“No. The pain’s gone.” Derek looks relieved as he turns to the couch and by the time Stiles has settled down onto the cushions the alpha has disappeared into the kitchen. Cabinets are opened and the faucet is turned on and Stiles is just about to demand that he get his broody, emo ass back over here and explain when Derek returns with a glass of water and a cereal bar, holding both out to him. Oh. 

“I know you’re exhausted… Please?” Stiles isn’t used to anyone mothering him like this. Not even his dad is this solicitous, at least not this openly but he supposes after everything Derek’s done he can’t really argue. Besides, he is exhausted and his stomach growls in urgency the minute he tears open the wrapping. Derek joins him on the couch, waiting until he takes a bite before he continues. 

“It’s actually not very common for packs to have an emissary. There aren’t a lot of werewolves who can gain the trust of a human loyal enough to take the oath. It’s become a symbol of a strong alpha. One who is respected by both humans and supernatural creatures. There has always been an emissary within the Hale pack. Deaton was my mother’s and by tradition, he should have followed me as her successor.”

“But you two hate each other. Surely he knew you wouldn’t agree to it.” 

“He knew I wouldn’t accept him. He didn’t know he’d be sidestepped by a high schooler.” 

“I don’t understand. He likes Scott. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if he went to his pack?” 

“He was in love with my mother.” Derek says with a shrug and Stiles almost chokes on the bite he just took. “I suppose it’s sentimental to him. It’s also quite the insult for me to have turned him down. Like I said, I broke tradition.”

“D-Did she…?” Stiles doesn’t know how to finish asking the question but Derek doesn’t seem to need any more prompting. 

“I don’t know what their relationship was. I do know my father wasn’t her true mate. They were happy. At least, from everything I know about them, they were happy. But she never told me what her and Deaton had.” 

“You think Deaton is her mate?” Derek nods. 

“She met Deaton a little after Laura was born. I think she probably realized later on, after he became her emissary.” 

“And you think they had an affair?” 

“No. Not that I’d blame her if they did.” Stiles tries to school his features before Derek can read them but he’s sure he must have caught the look of concern. “I don’t pretend to have any right to judge my mother. Nor would I even if I did. Mates are sacred to us, an extension of our soul. It goes beyond marriage, beyond romantic or lust or anything in between. But she had too much respect for my father to have gone behind his back. If she had truly wanted to be with Deaton she would have divorced him. He wouldn’t have tried to stop her. He loved her too much. Too much to keep her from a true mate and enough to let her go had she asked.”

“That’s why you don’t trust Deaton. Because even after she knew…” Stiles trails off in understanding. 

“It’s supposed to be torturous for a mated pair to deny one another once they’re aware of the bond. The pain is supposed to be nearly maddening. I think the only way they were physically able to get through it was because he was always around the pack as emissary. The proximity was enough for it to be manageable but something kept her from him. Something larger than my father. I don’t know what it was, what happened between them. I didn’t understand it then when she was alive and I don’t trust Deaton to tell me the truth now that she’s dead. 

“It would have hurt her though. I’m sure it hurt Deaton too, watching our family day after day. Being responsible for the pack and knowing it was everything he couldn’t have… When things started going south, with the hunters and Deucalion, I overheard them talking. She was worried about something happening to her and asked him to watch over us. Deaton swore to her that he would protect and serve all members of the Hale family until the day he died…It was meant to comfort her, but of course, he didn’t know then that I’d be responsible for her death.”

“Der-”

“It’s cruel isn’t it? Him hating my guts and me being the last promise he ever made to her… To vow to give his life for me when I took hers.” 

“Derek-”

“These last few years, our relationship was...mending?” He shrugs again, staring off across the room and Stiles understands the warning tilt of his words. He wants to argue. To tell Derek it wasn’t his fault but he knows him well enough not to push that issue. Instead he focuses on the last line he’s spoken. 

“Until me?” 

“No. Because he’s finally realized I’d never choose him. With to without your influence I’d never have him as my emissary. I would never let him into the pack, would never call him family. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. He was in love with my mother but I’ll always be my father’s son and I don’t regret that.” 

“But you called me family…” 

“You are.” Derek says, nodding resolutely. “After Laura there was no one else in this world I trusted. Not even the pups at the beginning. I turned them for the power of the pack and I’d give my life for them but at the time, I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust anyone until you.” Stiles’ eyes widen in shock. “That night at the pool, when you held me up, when you saved my life…When you understood what I was telling Scott about Jackson, the difference between what we are and the abomination he became. I trusted you. You became my beta that night and you’ve cemented yourself as my family ever since.” 

Stiles stares at him, tears filling his eyes and Derek’s face falls guiltily when he notices them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I don’t deserve it Derek. I…I don’t. Not after everything I’ve done to you-”

“You’ve done nothing to me.” Derek says in confusion, eyes searching his curiously.

“I got you arrested! More than once! I always blamed you, always suspected you. I almost killed you.” 

“In your defense you found my sister’s dead body buried on my property. Anyone else would have assumed the same. And we both know the bomb wasn’t you.” 

“I didn’t trust you.” 

“And now you’d jump off a building if I told you to.” Derek says and Stiles freezes. “Wouldn’t you?” Stiles nods. “You’ve always been loyal to me Stiles, even if you didn’t want to be. One of the reasons I can trust you is because you take the time to think things through. Yeah, you might have suspected me but when you realized you were wrong you did everything in your power to correct it. I don’t want blind obedience. I want trust that is earned and I feel as if we’ve both been able to earn one another’s?” Stiles frowns, his eyes downcast and body stiff with tension but he’s nodding again. He does trust Derek. Trusts Derek with everything he has and the alpha seems pleased with the admittance, green eyes softening as he looks him up and down. 

“Are you alright?”

“Nu-uh. Your turn.” Stiles says, laying his empty glass and wrapper on top of the coffee table before holding his hands out expectantly. Derek raises an eyebrow in question only for Stiles to make a grabby motion for his arm and the alpha sighs. He knows he’s not winning this argument so he rolls his sleeve back up, presenting the now black and sticky gauze to the pale faced teen. 

“You don’t have to touch it Stiles. Just give me the vile and I’ll do it.” 

“N-no, I got it.” Stiles insists, frowning as he begins unwrapping the bandage.“…I don’t really remember doing it.” He says quietly as he works. “The magic. It felt… heavy. Like a cold pressure on my my chest. I couldn’t even tell you what I did, just that my only thought was to get him away from you. Everything just suddenly went dark and the next thing I know you’re staring at me and Deaton’s on the floor and the pain is gone.” He lays the soiled fabric down as well, his eyes purposefully avoiding the other. “I can’t explain what the magic was like but the feeling before… that Deaton had been right about… When I’m angry, it feels like Him.” 

Derek winces, the alarm bells trembling against his scalp but Stiles doesn’t give him any time to think of a response. He has the little glass bottle out now, sprinkling the ashes down onto the open wound and the sudden bloom of pain has Derek hissing. Stiles’ hand clamps down over it a second later, his eyes a little wide and apologetic. “Shit. Sorry I forgot how much that part hurts you.” 

Derek doesn’t know what to say. He never thought he’d be here, Stiles dressing his wound, worrying over a stab that held all the danger of a human’s scraped elbow. He didn’t need this. Surely Stiles knows he doesn’t need this but he’s also not about to argue with him. He’s never spent much time with the human outside of their near death experiences. He’s not sure if he’s usually this worried or if it’s because of the sudden changes with the packs but if this contact is what’s needed to calm his manic nerves than Derek won’t complain. If treating others helps temper the ache in his own body Derek will let him mother him as much as he wants. He could do that for his beta at least. 

“I’m okay.” Derek murmurs, staring down where the gentle brush of fingers linger a moment longer before Stiles finally pulls away. The cut has already begun to close, tanned skin knitting slowly back together and Derek feels the guilt crash down on him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I should have stopped him sooner. I wanted to make sure we could help you but if I had known he would make you feel that way I wouldn’t have let him.” Stiles shakes his head. 

“He was right. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I am… more angry now. I-I try not to be. Most of the time, the pain keeps me pretty preoccupied but when I get mad… It’s like He’s there all over again. I don’t know if I can do it Der…If that’s what my magic takes to work I don’t think I can do it.” 

Derek opens his mouth, trying to think of something comforting to say but it’s clear Stiles isn’t expecting a response. He turns his attention back down to the coffee table, eye drifting back to the chessboard. He reaches for the closet pawn and holds up the black piece. “Why did you get this? I know you don’t play.”

“I was trying to understand…” 

“Understand what?” 

“Why you labeled me as the king.” 

“You’re my alpha… I was trying to explain to my dad the importance of the pack, the hierarchy. It seemed fitting.” Stiles says, shrugging. “Besides it probably saved your life. He thought… He thought we were more. Like Scott. And he wanted to save the things he thought would hurt me the most for last. You and dad…

“It’s why he sent you to the station. He wanted to see if you felt the same. If you’d be willing to protect dad for me.” 

“The bomb?” Stiles bites at his thumb nail, looking down at the floor with a nod. “So when you lured your dad away…” 

“He was testing you and I thought… I thought if I got dad out of the picture there wouldn’t be a reason for you to get hurt. I figured you and Chris would break free. You could snap a handcuff in half and Chris could pick the lock b-but you stayed… I miscalculated.” He looks miserably back up at Derek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You tried to save us both. You can’t apologize for that.” 

“I had to. You… he had you in checkmate a lot earlier on…” Derek frowns. 

“How early?” 

“First three moves… I knew he’d want… he’d want to play with you longer if he thought we were… more. So I just… you know, I let him tap into that. That you were my alpha and that I trusted you. When he saw the board he was…” Stiles searches for the right word, his eyebrows knitting together unhappily when he finds it. “Excited.” 

“There were moments you were… you.”Derek says carefully, watching the beta’s face harden. 

“You ever play tag as a kid?” Derek nods in response. “It was like that. We were always trying to outrun each other. Seeing who was faster… smarter. Except winner got to sit drivers seat in my head and looser was stuck in the back. We could watch the wreck that was about to happen but we couldn’t really stop the other. Not unless we took back control.” 

“How?” 

“There’s really only two emotions he ever feels. Pleasure if his plan is playing out and fury when it’s not. When either got to be too much he started slipping. For me, it was the opposite. I was mad and scared all the time. At first, I didn’t really think I could feel anything more than I already was but when he targeted dad or you… It was…rage. That’s when I got stronger, then I could take control. It was never very long or often but man, did it piss him off…” Stiles smiles slightly at that before looking off toward the kitchen, his eyes blinking rapidly against the oncoming tears. 

“Everything else, it just hurt. And I was so tired. I thought… For a long time I thought if I could just get behind the wheel and drive us both off the cliff it would finally stop. At first I used my time to try and put out the fires he’d start, but if I just took away the whole problem there wouldn’t be any fires to begin with. Right?” Derek shakes his head, wanting to stop him but Stiles continues. 

“It didn’t matter though. He knew. Before I could actually do anything he’d catch up to me. Like when I got the gun from dad’s office… I-I tried, you know? It was towards the end and I was getting more desperate and I kept pulling the trigger but nothing would happen. He’d just laugh and I was backseat again…” 

“You tried to shoot yourself?” Derek feels his throat tighten around the words. Feels his claws digging into his palm enough to draw blood and his chest aches to watch him sitting there. 

“I tried everything Derek. Gun. Rope… I tried jumping off the fucking hospital roof but he stopped that too. It’s how I finally snapped at the school that the sword was an illusion. I should have known sooner to be honest. He’d never actually let me. He… liked me too much. He enjoyed playing tag. My death wouldn’t be entertaining.” 

“Stiles…” 

“I don’t even know if it would have worked. If he’d just hop into someone else. When we were here at the loft, I was so relieved. I thought… I thought if I could at least do it then. If Chris could do it then the rest of you could catch him.” Stiles presses his shaking hands to his mouth, eyes closed against the tears as he speaks. “It almost worked. When he grabbed you and threw you, it was almost enough to take over. But then Chris pulled his gun and dad pulled his and I couldn’t… I wasn’t strong enough…” 

His voice cracks and Derek can’t stand to listen to it a moment longer. He grabs him, pulls him to his chest. Feeling the hot droplets against his neck when Stiles buries his face there. “I’m sorry Stiles.” Derek murmurs, trying to hold back the quiver in his own voice. He remembers. Of course he does. The moment the Void had grabbed him, tossed him into the wall. It had be shocking, the strength rippling out of Stiles’ body, moving a full grown alpha with all the effort it took to pick up a folding chair. 

Everything had been wrong. Derek had grown used to Stiles’ scent. The mix of adderall and pine soap and ink that came from fidgeting and biting at his pen… It had been different then, heavy and thick and rotten. Distorted voice covering over the deepening one Stiles was growing into and turning into the gravelly rasp of the thing that had taken over. There had been nothing of the beta there in the loft. Nothing  but his shape and even that hadn’t been quite right. His eyes too narrow, so dark with anger that honeyed brown had almost looked black. It had only been a glimpse but Derek shuttered to imagine the full extent of what had been inside. 

“I should have been able to… I should have been s-stronger. A-Allison would have-”

“Don’t.” Derek growls gently, shaking his head. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“It feels like my fault.” Stiles mumbles miserably. “I’d done it before.” 

“Stiles look at me.” Stiles shakes his head, pressing himself down into the alpha. “Stiles,” Derek says a little firmer now, leaning back to try and catch his gaze. “You’re the strongest person I know.” Stiles gives a disbelieving scoff, pushing him away and standing to retreat from the couch. Derek follows, only to grab him and spin him back around. “I’m serious Stiles. Look at me!” This time Stiles does, looking just as hopeless and guilt ridden as Derek feels. 

“It took both the packs to trick and catch this thing. It’s a demon, with knowledge and power honed over 1000 years. It’s wiped out hundreds, thousands. If you think any of us, any one of us could have done what you did—keeping it at bay and outsmarting it like you had— you’re wrong. We couldn’t kill it, Stiles we couldn’t touch it. And you? You made it sit backseat while battling your own head and heart and body. To protect us. Not to save yourself but to protect us.” Derek says firmly. 

“You’re a hero, I’m not just saying that Stiles, and it’s not just this. It’s never been just this. You treaded water with me for two hours when it was safer for you to go. You got yourself tortured by Gerard because you wouldn’t give up your pack—yeah Erica told me—I wasn’t lying when I said I was proud to have you as my beta. I’ve never been more proud or honored to have someone stand at my side. There is nothing in this world that changes that. Okay?” 

Stiles nods slowly. Derek can smell the anxiety and worry and fear pulsing like an actual heartbeat. Sees the tension and stress locking him into a spring. It’s like watching a rabbit out on the preserve, twitching breath and coiled muscles all ready to erupt in the barest shift of energy. Terror… 

Derek has to gulp down his own sudden wave of emotions and he hates this. Hates this more than anything he’s hated before. More than Kate or Peter or Deucalion or Jennifer. Those he understood. They were vindictive and vengeful and cruel but he had understood.

This… the Void. There was no reasoning, no resolution. The victims were random, played with and discarded like a cheaply made toy. All for fun? For sport? And it had chosen Stiles. Fun loving, loyal and caring Stiles. It had taken him and changed him into this shell of his former self… 

Derek may not be good with people and their emotions but he wasn’t blind. He knew the smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore. The sarcasm that was once playful and carefree was now so sharp and guarded with a level of defensiveness it may as well have been barbed wire. Stiles had always been expressive, even in his movements but not this. Not this twitchy, fidgeting mess he is now. Biting his nails, picking at his sleeves, blinking back tears like it was an Olympic sport. His eyes had a permanent red rim around them, his cheeks hallowed and twinged with a grey that made him look older… sickly. 

Derek hated it. Didn’t know what to do with it. Therapy? Eichen House? Deaton? He’s not sure he could find a hotline to get advice on how to meditate on negative energy brought on by a millennia old demon. And neither of them trusted Deaton enough for this. Returning to Eichen House was also out of the question. Derek would sooner entrust his wellbeing to Peter than the orderlies. He’s not sure what else to do, only knows he needs to get that haunted look off Stiles’ face. 

“…I’m scared Derek. I’m scared all the fucking time.” Stiles gasps, and Derek pulls him forward again scenting him as they embrace.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” He says as confidently as he can. “You’re here now, home. We stay with the pack, protect one another. No matter what happens after this we do it together. Okay?” Stiles lets out a shaky breath, nodding into his shoulder and Derek scents him again. “You’ll just have to teach us how to play chess, alright?” He tries to make his voice sound lighter. “Cause let me tell you, I tried getting Peter to tutor me and it was the worst idea of my life.” 

Stiles laughs shakily at that, nodding again as he wipes annoyedly at his face. “Yeah… You gotta try to last more than three turns Sourwolf.” 

Derek almost passes out with the relief the nickname brings. This is safer. Chess is Stiles game. He needs to talk about something he understands, so Derek lets him.

“I’m not sure what I could have done?” 

“Nothing. That’s the problem. He knew. Everything I knew about you, every memory we ever shared… It’s what you do in chess. Learn your opponent. Strategize for 10 different outcomes and then pick the one you like most. He found your patterns, got an understanding of your morals and how far you were willing to go for someone you care about, all off the profile I had of you in my head. You couldn’t have done anything different because I know you.” 

And Derek realizes he’s right. Stiles does know him. Knows him enough to have framed him and Chris for murder. Knows him enough to have realized he would have broken out of the handcuffs had Chris not stopped him. That he would have died protecting Noah...

“What do I do then? Need to change how I handle things?”

“No. Next time there’s moves on the board you don’t plan your attack on how many you have left but how many he has. You already know your weakness. Deep down we all do. You gotta pay attention to his. Don’t break yourself to beat him, learn how to bend. I knew I couldn’t hold onto the wheel the whole time. He knew I was stubborn enough to try and take it from him. His mistake was assuming who I’d be fighting for. He expected me to try and save everyone but I’m not Scott, I’m a realist. The most efficient course of action was to bide my time and conserve enough energy for when I really needed it. He knew I was stubborn, I knew he was cocky. The rest was a waiting game.” 

Derek can’t help the look of surprise that crosses his face and he sees Stiles falter because of it. His voice shifts back from the confident stream of words he had begun to animate himself with to one of uncertainty as he looks away. “What?” 

“You… It sounds like a military strategy.” 

“That’s what chess is…” 

“Peter said it was your game. Game being the operative word, but it makes sense now.” Derek says with a fond huff of amusement. “My mother… she used to talk like that all the time. I didn’t understand then what she was preparing me for… She would have loved you.” 

Stiles head whips back up. “She was strict. She ran the house like a military base. With the majority of us born wolf she had to make sure we learned discipline and control, especially with two young humans in the house. But you talk just like her…She’d quote to us all the time… ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will suffer defeat-”

“If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.’” Stiles finishes, smiling. “The Art of War.” Derek grins back. 

“I don’t think I really got it until just now.” Stiles looks at a loss as to what to say next and Derek takes the chess pieces from his hand, motioning back to the board. 

"Teach me?” He asks. 

“Now?” 

“You got other plans?” 

“No.” 

“Teach me.” 

In all essence Derek isn’t bad at chess. In fact he picks it up pretty quickly and Stiles is surprised at how willing he is to take his critiques. The game actually starts becoming fun by their third match and Stiles is pleased to note Derek lasts much longer than three moves. 

The alpha himself is smiling, sitting on a throw pillow that is too small to actually be comfortable as Stiles sits huddled across from him on the couch, empty mug in had and blanket strewn across his shoulders. It’s surprisingly domestic as they play quietly. Talking little with a half eaten pizza between them and rain pattering against the large panes. 

By the third win Stiles is yawning and Derek blinks in confusion as he looks out the window and sees the darkening sky. 

“Didn’t realize how late it was…” He says quietly before understanding dawns on him. Green eyes fix themselves on Stiles zoning onto the empty coffee mug and then he’s up and at his side, laying his fingers against his hand. “You’re cold.” 

“I’m not hurting.” 

“Still cold. Is anything else bothering you?” 

“No. But I kinda think slightly below freezing is now my new norm.” Derek’s eyebrows furrow. 

“It’s too cold.” Stiles agrees. His fingers are mostly numb and now that he’s focused on the problem he also becomes aware of how badly his arms are shaking. “Does a hot bath help?” 

“Der… You don’t have a bathtub.” Derek rolls his eyes. 

“You can use the shower tonight but it wouldn’t be hard to install one.”

“You’re going to install a bathtub for me because I’m cold…? You realize how that sounds?” 

“It sounds like the answer wasn’t a no. Does a hot bath help?” He repeats.

“I could just take a hot shower.” 

“Or you could answer the question!” He snaps in annoyance, earning an irritating grin in response. 

“Yes. Hot water helps.” 

“Then go.” Stiles stares at him before crossing his arms. 

“No.” 

“Stiles!” 

“Why a bath?” 

“Do you not like baths?” 

“Not enough to start construction on Not My Loft.” Derek has to take a calming breath to continue. 

“Bathing can be considered a purifying ritual in Japan. It’s supposed to relieve toxins from mind and body. Since the Nogitsune is from there, purifying you from that cultural perspective would probably help. Besides the herbs Deaton gave us can be steeped to drink but bodies can absorb through the skin. Bathing in them might not help the pain but it could help with your temperature.” 

Stiles is looking at him in a way Derek can’t quite interpret but his eyes have softened, arms falling back down to his side. “D-Did you look that up?” 

“Yes.” 

“Because you were worried about me?” 

“You’re my beta Stiles. There isn’t a time I’m not worried about you.” 

“You’re not like this with the others.” 

“The others weren’t poisoned.” 

“You’d reconstruct your bathroom for me? It’s not like I live here. What if I only stay here one more night?” 

“Then you’ll be comfortable for that one night.” Derek says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re in my pack. Everything I own, everything I have is yours. Even if you never use it you’ll have the option for it. The loft is to house and protect any of mine that need it. If you need a bathtub there’ll be a bathtub. Now would you please go shower?” 

“I don’t have anything.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I don’t have anything to give the pack in return Derek. I can’t fight, I can’t make premonitions. I can’t physically add to the pack, I can’t monetarily add to the pack. I-”

“It’s not your job to. It’s mine. I’m the alpha. You could be a favorite chew toy for Isaac and if I claimed you as pack you’d get an honorary little chew toy pedestal for the mantle I’d install for you. Now stop it. I’m not letting you spiral this way. You can ask Deaton or Chris or Peter, I don’t care. You give the oath. That’s all betas are expected to give. Everything else is mine to provide. In this I will not budge. Understand?

“If Erica said she needed full satin sheets for her luscious little werewolf pelt she’d get it. If Boyd needed a full gym for his weight training he’d get it. If Issac wanted an entire glow in the dark room so he doesn’t have to worry about feeling like he’s in an enclosed space, he gets it. And if you need a bathtub to stop feeling like you’re freezing to death, you get it. Why are you being so difficult? I’m rich, the Hales are rich, the pack is rich. I own the building. I actually own the three blocks surrounding the building. I actually own more than half the real estate of Beacon Hills. If you insist on not letting me put a bathtub here then I will take you to one of the many, many other developments I own that already has one. But I actually like this one. So please, please just shut up and let me take care of you!” 

Derek knows he’s on the verge of yelling. He feels the frustration building by the second. He doesn’t understand how Stiles does this. How one moment he can be scaring the actual life out of his body just by crying and the next minute he’s making him mad enough to punch a bathtub sized hole in the floor himself. It’s infuriating! He’s infuriating! He’s also smiling like an idiot right now, looking at Derek like he’s just found the toy in the cracker jacks. 

“Ok.” 

“What?” 

“Ok. I’m going to take a shower, and tomorrow you can put in a bathtub.” Stiles promptly stands, smiling as he passes Derek to walk up the stairs. 

“I know I can! I can put in whatever I want!” Derek yells after him, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. Stiles however does not loose the smile he’s wearing as he disappears to the second level. 

Chapter Text

“You’re still cold.” Derek says, frowning as he stands next to the bed. His fingers brush against Stiles’ cheek, shaking and hesitant as he looks worriedly at his human. 

“I don’t know what more you want from me Derek. I took a boiling hot shower. I’ve drank more hot beverages than what’s probably safe for my kidneys. I have on two pairs of socks. Your sweats. Your thermal. Every blanket you own… The only other option is setting me on fire and right now I’m not sure even that will be enough to un-numb my fingers.” 

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

“You’re an excessively rich alpha werewolf who’s trying to keep his human emissary from spontaneously freezing to death from a fox demon’s revenge poison. We threw sense out the window a while ago…” 

“What did you do all the time you were alone? How did you handle it” Derek presses. 

“I broke into my grumpy alpha’s apartment and baked.” 

“What did you do for the cold?” Derek looks frustrated, his mouth set into a thin line and shoulders tight in apprehension. Stiles knows he should be trying to offer more reassurance than he is but the string of questions is starting to become annoying. 

“Heating pads and blankets.” He grumbles. 

“And it helped?” 

“No.” 

“Then what did!?” 

“Nothing!” Stiles snaps. “It’s just like this Derek. I just… laid there until it got better.” 

“You just laid there…like this?” Derek asks incredulously. 

“Most days it’s not this bad but when it got this bad, yeah. I just laid there until it stopped.” 

“How long does it take?” 

“I don’t know… maybe eight hours? I never really timed it.” Derek looks like he’s about to be physically ill from the words. His eyes widening in disbelief. 

“You’ve stayed this cold for eight hours?” 

“Yeah. Sometimes…I guess.” Stiles stares at him from under the mountainous cocoon of blankets. It feels like the forts he and Scott used to build as kids. Better, in fact. More like a den if he were thinking deeper about it, if he’d actually let himself fall down that rabbit hole. He won’t though because Derek has that look. The I’m so worried I’m about to actually set the building on fire because it might help look. 

He’s ten seconds away from losing the little bit of feigned self control he’s worn since Stiles returned from the shower. Ten degrees colder and a shade bluer than he had been before he went in. It would be hilarious if he didn’t see the actual, raw fear eating away at the alpha. “Der, I promise. I know it feels bad but it doesn’t hurt and nothing ever happens.”

“Your heartbeat is all over the place.” Derek’s eyes look slightly manic as he says it, his gaze sweeping over him repetitively. 

“That’s good though, isn’t it? If I were freezing it would be slowing down…” 

“It’s not good! You fall from 120 beats to 30 within seconds.” 

“How do you even know that?” 

“I’ve been counting! At least I was. It’s speeding up, I can’t keep track any more…” Stiles isn’t sure how to respond but he knows he’s right. He can feel the frantic fluttering in his chest. 

“Ok. Ok let’s just both try and calm down.” He starts wiggling out from under the blankets and sees Derek move to stop him. It’s instinctual, a knee-jerk reaction to keep him covered but the alpha pauses, seeming to weigh the options they have before finally helping to push the insulated wall away. The change is almost instant, Stiles feels his teeth begin chattering the minute the cooler air hits him and Derek’s face darkens impossibly more. “M-Maybe this part is in my head Derek.” 

“I can feel it Stiles. I can hear it. This isn’t something you’ve made up. If you were a normal human you would’ve had a stroke by now. You’d probably be dead!” He says thickly. 

“I’ve been to the hospital like this. Medically I’m fine. Even Deaton said-”

“He’s wrong! This isn’t normal. This isn’t something you should be sleeping through!” Derek kneels down before him, looking more lost and scared than Stiles has ever seen the alpha. He grabs his arms then, movements frantic as he begins rubbing his palms over him. The friction is enough to send a line of warmth along his bicep and Derek’s eyes seem to catch the realization on his face. “Does this help?”

Stiles nods. “I feel it… I haven’t really been able to feel anything…”

It’s the only reassurance Derek needs, his hands gliding over the sleeves of the thermal a little faster now. “They’re all useless.” He grumbles more to himself than out loud.

“What?” 

“We’ve been treating you as any normal human with normal temperatures but the problem is from a fox. I should have realized sooner, I need to be focused on our kind…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When one of us gets cold we share body heat. We have thick fur. Foxes gain thicker fur in the winter. You’re missing that… I think I need to shift. If you’re close enough to me I think it might help.” 

“You want me to cuddle with werewolf Derek?” Stiles asks in disbelief, his eyes widening as he looks at his alpha. 

“Wolf Derek.” Derek corrects, watching the shock fall across his beta’s face. He’s not sure if the hesitation is for touching his shifted form or for touching him in general but Derek doesn’t have the time to try and convince him. His temperature is dropping too fast, heartbeat too sporadic. He couldn’t go on like this for much longer, no one could. It was like listening to a hummingbird caught in a cage and his wolf is now growling in urgency, the alarms blaring as loud as he’s ever heard them. 

“Your full wolf?” Stiles asks. 

“Is that okay?” It had to be okay. There isn’t really another option. No matter what the human says now Derek is ready to push him down into the mattress and imprison him in canine limbs if it means stopping whatever arctic curse is shooting through his body. He’s ready for that argument but to Stiles' credit the dubiety seems short lived. 

“Y-Yeah I mean, if you’ll let me… it doesn’t… It doesn’t hurt you to shift that far does it?” It’s not what Derek had been expecting and the words freeze him in place. No one had asked if a shift hurt since… well, ever. His mother knew it hurt. His siblings knew it hurt. There had never been a reason to talk more about it. And though he had gotten used to the sensation, breaking and re-breaking bones that shrunk and elongated in their structure was never really pleasant. Stiles looks worried though, frowning at him through chattering teeth and shaking arms. 

“No. It doesn’t hurt.” Stiles nods, and Derek hurries to reassemble the pseudo-den he’s made. 

It’s… unorthodox. 

A last-ditch attempt at trying to fix… whatever the hell this is. Dens aren’t a werewolf thing. They’re not even a shapeshifter thing. It’s his literal wolf instincts he’s following now, creating the only other structure he knows that provides shelter and protection. And Derek also knows he’d never live it down if Peter were here to watch him frantically stacking up blankets and duvets into what essentially adds up to a nursery for his human beta. Stiles himself would probably come after him with his baseball bat once he learns the significance of it. Once he finds out that dens are only really used in the wild for a short amount of time, dug out to provide a safe place to birth and rear pups until they’re old enough to integrate with the rest of the pack…

Stiles might actually kill him. 

He’s surprised he’s not facing the beta’s wrath right now. It seems like something he’d have come across in his research but either Stiles hasn’t realized or like Derek, is too worried to care. Truth be told Derek would go out and buy a hundred more blankets, would take Stiles out to the preserve and dig out a real, authentic den himself if it meant raising his body temperature and steadying his heartbeat. He’s not above this. He’s realized quite recently he’s not above anything when it comes down to his pack. The lengths which he’s decided he’ll go in order to keep from loosing one more… Stiles can hate him later, as long as he’s alive enough to do it.

“Here. Stay in here, we’ll try to trap as much heat as we can.” Derek instructs, motioning Stiles back into the cave-like entrance and he’s thankful when Stiles quietly obeys, lying back down on his side. “If we had the bond we could communicate that way but for now I won’t be able to respond to you. Anything you ask needs to be yes or no. Okay?” Stiles nods again. “I am still able to turn you in this form so keep your hands away from my teeth.” 

“O-okay…” 

Derek nods and then Stiles watches as the alpha pulls his shirt off, over his head. 

At any other time, Stiles might have considered this a dream scenario. He wasn’t blind. Derek was attractive. Incredibly, exceedingly and annoyingly attractive. Stiles had felt the not-so-subtle crush for the man for over a year now but as much as he wasn’t blind he also wasn’t stupid. Pining after the very straight and very out of his league 23 year old alpha was probably at the top of the list of dumb-as-fuck ideas he ever had; and it had become increasingly easier to ignore attraction to anyone after the demon possession and crippling guilt. 

He feels only concern now as Derek strips from his clothes, his mind trying to think back to the only other time he had seen Derek’s wolf. It had been from a distance and he hadn’t witnessed the actual shift then either. Still, he can’t imagine that the act of transforming a body’s entire biological structure is painless… 

"How long can you stay like that Derek?” 

“Years if I wanted.” 

“You sure it won’t hurt you?” 

“I’m sure.” Then Derek pauses, looking guiltily at him. “I have less control in this form when I’m angry or upset. It’s easier for me to lash out, less patience… but I promise I wouldn’t suggest this if I wasn’t-”

“Der. I trust you. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself. Your control was never a question.” Derek looks startled at the admission, his eyes softening over him gratefully. It was instinctual for betas to trust their alphas, it had to be, especially to give the oath. Derek knows Erica and Boyd and Isaac would obey him through the alpha spark. They listened, respected him because of his status but he’s also come to the daunting realization that it’s an entirely different story for Stiles. Now, as he stands in front of the injured human that follows him without question, trusts him through a shift that had most supernatural creatures shying away in fright… Derek understood. It wouldn’t matter what he was, alpha or beta or omega, Stiles would trust him. Would always trust him. 

The weight of it, the responsibility of it chokes him. He can’t speak, doesn’t know what he’d say even if he could so he nods, feeling his wolf clawing its way to the surface. Derek’s not quite sure he could hold back the shift now even if he wanted to. There’s something deeper than the pack bonds calling out to it, older. Primal. His wolf paces, desperate, distraught, demanding to be released, begging to let him help. So Derek does.  

Stiles watches, transfixed as skin turns to fur, hands to paws, face to muzzle. It’s quicker than his half shift in some bizarre way, smoother if he was asked to describe it; but it’s his size that has him staring in wide-eyed fascination. Wolves are big. Sure. He knew this, had seen it enough in the videos and the one time he went on the zoo field trip in sixth grade. The largest species could stand up to 3 feet tall. Derek stood past 4. The shimmering eyes stare down the mattress at him. Down, because the massive head hovers over Stiles.

“Holy shit Derek!” He exclaims as the wolf takes a tentative step closer. 

Derek pulls back immediately, letting out a small, uncertain whine. It’s almost comical, how such a large creature could look nervous. Shifting his weight from one paw to the other, eyes glowing and head bowing; and though he can’t speak Stiles somehow knows the timid movements are Derek for ‘I won’t hurt you’. And isn’t that the most ridiculous thing? Like Stiles hasn’t just watched the man bring him food and medicine for the last two days. Hadn’t just watched his alpha build a structure that a pack will pour their heart and souls into to protect their weakest members? As if Stiles could ever think Derek would harm him when he’s done everything in his power to save him? 

“I’m not scared of you Sourwolf…You’re beautiful.” He says, reaching out a hand and smiling when Derek closes his eyes and lowers his chin gently down into his palm. 

The spark of heat is instant. Stiles gasps quietly as his shaking fingers steam from the sudden warmth and it’s all the reassurance Derek needs. He growls, lifting his front paws and bounding up onto the mattress with a grace that shouldn’t be attainable at his size. He nudges Stiles back, as close to the blanketed wall as possible before carefully, gently settling down.

There's a sudden wave of heat that follows the alpha, like opening the oven door. Stiles feels the air warm around him, folding over him and he finds himself scooting closer. “You were right…” He murmurs, earning a low rumbling sound of encouragement. “Don’t blame me if I freeze your tail off.” Derek does not protest and Stiles takes it as permission to move forward, wrapping his arms around the massive neck and burrowing his face there into the soft fur. 

It’s almost hesitant, not knowing what he’s allowed or where he can place his hands but after a moment he feels Derek’s tail flicker across his leg and any uncertainty he might have had vanishes. Sighing Stiles curls himself closer, his upper body resting at an incline along his shoulder, feet tucking under his stomach. He burrows himself between fur and blankets and pillows until he’s thoroughly nestled along the wolf’s side. 

Derek doesn't move, just sits patiently until his beta settles into a comfortable position. Shimmering eyes watching fondly as he nearly disappears under his fur and only when the movement stops does he allow himself to tuck his head back behind Stiles’s shoulders, offering his neck as a place to lean against. It’s a strange sort of embrace but the closeness allows Derek to feel his heartbeat stabilize and the cold slowly seep away. He would cry in relief if he could.

It falls silent between them. Derek busies himself by tracking the steadying pulse and enough time passes that he’s convinced Stiles must have fallen asleep until he feels the fingers brush against his side, falling away only to start over again. He’s… petting him. 

Derek doesn’t know how to feel about that. Annoyed? Angry? Flattered? It’s the equivalent to patting down his ribcage and he thinks about sending him a huff of protest for good measure when Stiles’ tired voice fills the room. 

“I’m sorry… I know I can be difficult. I don’t mean to be, I’m just not good at asking for help.” Derek lifts his head slightly in acknowledgement. He can’t see Stiles face, as the human is turned away from him but he can feel him draw a little closer. “You’ve always taken care of me though, so thanks… Really. For everything.” Derek whines quietly in response, rubbing his cheek against the plane of his back and he decides not to do anything when Stiles’ fingers begin to card through the fur on his shoulder. 

Stiles should be surprised that he slept through the night—would have slept through his alarm if Derek hadn’t woken him— but it’s hard to be scared of anything when you're using a full-shift alpha werewolf as a body pillow. Nightmares included. To his astonishment, he hasn’t had a bad dream since he arrived at the loft but he’s realistic enough to know it’s the exception and not the rule. He’ll have to address it eventually. It’s still a problem but he’s a fan of ignoring those for as long as possible. 

Derek is human and fully dressed when Stiles crawls out of the blankets. The alpha looks dubiously at the den before laying his hand along Stiles’ forehead and reading through the pain. He frowns, and without a word, retreats back to the kitchen for the tea he’s already started, leaving Stiles to dig through the dryer for his clothes and ready himself for the day. 

It had still been a fight to use the washer but after agreeing to double up on socks and wearing his thermal Derek had finally relented. Not that it had been a hard sell. Even Derek’s sweats are ten times nicer than anything Stiles owns and the soft material is more than comfortable enough to sleep in. He’s actually a little sad to have to change back into his flannel but the plan of borrowing a henley during puppy piles and accidentally forgetting to return it has already hatched. He’s pretty sure he’s not the only one either. He knows for a fact both Isaac and Boyd have stolen a shirt or two from the alpha. 

“Here. You can eat in the car.” Derek says, handing him a thermos and a cereal bar. 

“You don’t have to drive me to school Derek.” 

“I wouldn’t have to if your Jeep would start.” 

“What?” 

“You left your lights on. I’m assuming since Friday. Battery’s fried. I tried jumping it.” Oh. 

“I don’t really remember even driving over here if I’m being honest.” Stiles says. 

“Considering you looked like you hadn’t slept in a week I’m not surprised. I’ll drive you and I’ll replace the battery while you’re in class.” 

“You’re not buying me a battery.” 

“Don’t start-” 

“There’s only so much my pride can take dude. Bawling on you like a baby and being stuffed in a den have knocked me pretty low on the self-esteem scale. Please don’t add financially dependent.” Derek’s face flushes. “Oh, you didn’t think I knew you tucked me into a nursery?” 

“It was the only thing I could think of…” He says weakly, his green eyes wide and apologetic. Stiles has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. 

“If it was a problem I would have said something Der. It might have wounded my pride by needing it but not my masculinity because of what it is. We both know I’m not winning any competition for my virility, okay? Besides, I like it. It’s like the ultimate pillow fort.” 

“You liked it?” Derek asks, almost choking in surprise. 

“It’s warm. Isn’t that the point?” Derek doesn’t know what to say but he can feel the blush crawling up to his ears . “Look I appreciate all the obligatory alpha instincts you have to provide but there is a line and you fixing my jeep is probably crossing it.” 

“It’s not obligation.” Derek says tersely. 

“Der-”

“You’re my friend Stiles and in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have many of those. Besides, you’d do the same for me.” The argument dies on Stiles’ lips. “You can pay me back for the battery if that’s what it takes but I wish you’d just let me do it and I also wish you’d stop arguing about it. I thought we agreed that you’re difficult and you’re going to let me take care of you?” 

“My health, not my car. You’re already spoiling me with herbal baths.” 

“The bath is for your health and If I really were trying to spoil you as my beta I’d buy you a new vehicle all together. One that’s not held up with duct tape.” 

“First off, rude. Second-”

“Argue on the way. You’re going to be late. And I’m taking your keys.” Stiles sighs dramatically but doesn’t protest as Derek rushes him out the door. 

They make it to the Camaro when Stiles pauses. “Der, I’m serious. So help me, if you show up with a brand-new car-” Derek rolls his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t trade in your Jeep Stiles. I know it’s your mother’s, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t pull the fine-print fae bullcrap. You’re only buying a battery for my car and you’re not buying a new one. Say it.” Stiles hisses although he can’t help but feel the grateful thrum in his chest. Derek rolls his eyes again. 

“I promise I won’t buy you a new car.” 

“No semi-used one either.—Actually, no. I know you. No buying any vehicle, period!” 

“Shut up and get in the car Stiles.” Derek demands but he’s smiling and Stiles gives him one more warning glare before falling into the passenger seat. 

They’re silent as Derek pulls onto the road but Stiles can feel the alpha’s eyes flickering over him suspiciously as the minutes tick on and he finally gives him a questioning shrug back. “What?” 

“You brought the bag Deaton gave you. You’re going back to your father’s?” 

“It’s his split shift today and I always make dinner before he has to go back to work. If I don’t show he’d have the entire department swarming the loft. Besides, as my drill-sergeant alpha has banned me from laundry I want to grab some extra clothes. You’ll just have to hold down the den-fort yourself tonight Sourwolf.” Derek has to tamper the pleased growl, understanding that Stiles is fully planning on returning to the loft. It shouldn’t make him so happy. He assumes it’s because he’s bonded more with Stiles than he has with any of the other betas but even he knows it’s a weak explanation. 

“I’ll come pick you up and take you home after school then.” Derek offers.  

“You think I haven’t made the trek before? Roscoe craps out on me every other day. Don’t waste the gas.” 

“You shouldn’t be walking that far.” 

“I’m not-” 

“Fine!” Derek growls, deciding to bypass the bickering altogether . “I don’t want you walking that far.” He admits, his jaw tight and words clipped. “It’s bad enough I won’t be able to check on you throughout the day but I can’t help you with the pain if I’m not around. The last thing I want on my conscious is you trekking anywhere on your own.” Stiles laughs. 

“If you’re that freaked out about it then why don’t you come over tonight? We can fit the 7 foot long wolf on my full sized mattress.” Stiles jokes. Derek however, doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I’ll ask your dad.” 

“Wha? I wasn’t serious!” 

“I am.” Stiles gapes at him. “You’re still hurting Stiles and if last night was anything to go buy it’s too dangerous to leave you like that. I can sneak into your room with no problem but your father might freak out if he sees a dire wolf trampling up his stairs. I rather not have to dig police issued bullets out of my pelt.” 

“This isn’t a new thing Derek.” 

“It shouldn’t be a common thing Stiles! I wouldn’t leave any of the betas feeling like that. You wouldn’t leave any of the betas like that. Look me in the eye and tell me you’d be fine walking away if you knew Erica’s heartbeat had dropped to 30 beats per minute.” Stiles can’t. He knows Derek’s right so he keeps his mouth shut. “I’ll ask Noah If it’s okay but I’ll be there regardless.” Stiles sighs. 

“Just bring my jeep back over with you later. I’ll get a ride home from Danny.” 

“Fine.” Derek’s silent for a long moment before his voice softens. “How long do you think you can keep all this from you father?” 

“Well, let’s see. The big, important alpha werewolf is going to contact him at work to ask permission for a sleepover. He’ll either assume we’re dating or I’m dying and seeing how you wear a worried look of broken desperation any time my wellbeing is brought up lately it’ll take him all but a second to start drilling you. Since interrogation is his actual profession you’ll be stuttering through half-assed explanations before saying ‘fuck it’ and spilling the beans anyways so that gives me… what? 20 minutes before you call him? Actually, scratch that. Before you go see him, you’re more of a face to face type of guy.” 

“I am capable of lying.” 

“Not well! And not without the guilt ridden look of someone who accidentally ran over a three day old puppy. Besides you respect my dad too much and I wouldn’t ask that of you." Derek does look guilty at that and Stiles can't help but offer him a fond smile. " It’s fine. I was going to tell him everything tonight anyways. You can say whatever you want. I’ll fill in any questions he has when I see him.” 

“I wouldn’t have done anything behind your back.” Stiles grins. 

“I know Big Guy.” Well that sends a pleased shiver down Derek’s spine. He clears his throat, turning his face back towards the road and they both fall silent again until the school comes into view. 

“I’ll be there later this evening but let Erica know if you need anything.” Derek says as he pulls into the parking lot. 

“Aye aye captain.” Stiles gives him a mock salute before exiting the Camaro, waving when Derek smiles and reverses back onto the road.

It’s the first time since the Void that Stiles doesn’t dread walking into the school hallway, the first time he can return Danny’s smile with an honest one of his own. Classes pass quickly and he spends the day ducking between Erica’s incessant grabbing and Boyd’s quiet reminders to finish his thermos. Isaac joins them for lunch and welcomes him with a bone crushing hug that sends everyone into a frenzied panic when Stiles is accidentally dropped to the floor. 

He laughs. Doesn’t stop laughing as Erica lectures Isaac on being more careful with him. Doesn’t stop laughing when Boyd hurries around chasing dropped oranges and milk cartons. Doesn’t stop laughing even when he feels Scott’s gaze watching him from across the cafeteria. All he can do is sit on the floor and laugh and think how nice it is to have a pack again. 

Noah looks tired when Derek enters the office. More than that, he looks worried. He shares the dark bags under his eyes with his son, face paler and leaner than they had been months ago. He stands when he sees the alpha, a smile spreading across his face as he hurries to give Derek a hug, one Derek readily returns. “What’s wrong with Stiles? Is he okay?” 

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Noah gives him a knowing look and Derek shakes his head. “Stiles is fin… he’s okay. He came to the loft Friday night. Has he complained to you about anything hurting? Since the Void?” 

Noah’s face crumbles. “No. But I thought there might be. He’s always so pale… I took him to the hospital but all the tests say he’s fine. He said it was mostly nightmares. Did he say anything to you?” 

“Not at first. It took me touching him to feel it. There was pain… a lot and when I asked he said he thought it was all in his head.” Noah’s pale face blanches. “It’s left over from the Void. Deaton said it’s foxfire.” 

“He didn’t say-”

“He didn’t think it was real. He’s assumed it was some punishment he’s made up for himself for Allison. It surprised him when I was able to pull it away.” Noah collapses back down onto the chair. 

“W-Why didn’t he… none of the others… Scott can pull it can’t he? I know they feel like they need to hide this supernatural stuff from me but I always assumed that if Scott saw him in pain he would-” 

“Scott kicked him out of the pack.” There’s a long stretch of silence. Noah looks older than he had moments ago, worn and Derek sits on the chair across from him. “Stiles means to tell you all this tonight when he goes home. There’s a lot more than I can give you right now but I felt I owed you this much. Scott and Stiles haven’t talked in months. He’s been on his own since the Nogitsune.” 

“He just… Because of Allison?” Noah asks miserably. Derek nods. “It wasn’t his faul-”

“I know.” 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” 

“He didn’t tell anyone.” 

“I knew they were distancing themselves from each other. Kind of hard to miss when the kid I’ve been feeding and giving bubblebaths to since he was six stops showing up for sleepovers every other night but that’s different than no contact.” Noah says wearily. “I thought they’d work through it.” 

“There shouldn’t be anything to work through.” Derek says. “Stiles didn’t do anything wrong and alphas don’t just abandon their betas. I don’t know what the hell Scott is thinking but it’s not Stiles’ fault.” Noah nods absently. “I offered him a spot in my pack.” 

Derek can smell the apprehension before he sees it and prepares himself for the fight. “Maybe it’s better he doesn’t join anyone…” 

“Stiles has gained the interest of a demon Noah. A powerful demon. Not because he knows a werewolf but because he’s Stiles. The Nogitsune was drawn to him because he’s smart, cunning in his own right. He’s a strategist and none of that changes by being out of the pack. If anything it takes away any sort of physical protection we can offer him.” 

“If he hadn’t done that ritual to find me-”

“Then he would have been tearing through Beacon Hills on his own and probably got killed when he wandered into a pack of bloodthirsty alphas.” Derek argues and that quiets a response. “I’m not saying I want this to continue for him Noah. I’m telling you it’s going to, no matter what he does now. He didn’t just dip a toe into our world, he’s been scuba diving and churning waters since the moment Scott was bit. He could try to stay away from the supernatural but it’s already got his scent, it won’t stay away from him.” 

Noah sighs, bringing his hands up to scrub at his face. “I know… I know. You’re right. Once I figured out all about this stuff I got the impression we were sort of in it for the long haul. I just… I don’t know how to protect him Derek. Especially when he doesn’t tell me what’s going on.” 

“Let me do it then.” Derek says gently. “He’s willing to accept me as his alpha and I’ve always considered him one of mine anyways. I know I haven’t been the greatest example, I’ve made mistakes but I want to protect him.” 

“You don’t need my permission. He’s eighteen.” Noah says unhappily. 

“It’s not permission I’m looking for. He’s family and by relation, so are you. I’d like to think we’re in agreement on what’s best for him.” Noah looks up at him in surprise. 

“You make it sound more like a marriage proposal than an invitation into the group kid.” Derek smiles. 

“It’s stronger than that. Scott’s created a pack out of friendship and loyalty which is impressive in and of itself but there aren’t any true bonds that tie them together. A traditional pack is forged by blood, the bite and the oath. They’ve shed blood for one another but he’s never turned any of his own and none of them have ever taken the oath. They’re linked together by trust and respect but we both know how fleeting those can be. His pack can never be as strong as the laws intended until he utilizes that.” 

“Oath?” 

“It’s a vow, spanning across civilizations. A promise to live for one another and die for one another. You’ve heard of some humans who have shared such a bond. Achilles and Patroclus. Antony and Cleopatra. Arthur and his knights. There’s no limit to how many can share the oath but the devotion it creates to each individual never wavers. Different cultures have different names for those who take it. The Chinese called them Sworn Brothers, the Greeks, Adelphopoiesis. In Nepal, Miteri. We call them pack.

“Anyone can take it. It goes beyond species but when one of my kind does it creates a link, a physical tether that joins the pack as one. Scott can feel the emotions from his betas, I can share them, relieve them. We’re bound in a way he can’t begin to comprehend.”  

“Do you have to bite him?” Noah asks quietly. 

“No. Emissarys into the pack have always been human. Stiles will give the oath and I will mark him but he won’t turn.” Noah falls silent thinking that over and Derek parses thought the flickering emotions of relief, confusion, weariness and dread. It’s almost as turbulent as Stiles’. Almost. 

“If you’re both willing to enter into something like that I can’t stop you. In fact, I’m kind of glad it’s you and not Scott. If Stiles is set on joining a group of werewolves I rather it be a group who takes a blood oath to protect him over a handshake.” Derek smiles. 

“I’d try to explain it to Scott if I thought he would listen. From what I’ve gathered, he’d be too against the idea. Most new alphas consider it too final a decision. You gain a brotherhood but loose many of the physical and emotional boundaries humans are naturally fond of.” 

“Stiles has always been a clingy little shit anyways.” Noah says affectionately and that has Derek chuckling. “You sure about this Derek? Stiles…he’s a handful.”

“This isn’t me trying to coddle or babysit him. Stiles has more than earned his spot. You probably don’t know all of what he’s done, especially for me but he’s given the oath through actions alone. Long before now. He’s fought with us, bled with us, loved and lost with us. He’s done all and more than any beta is ever expected to do and even without the bonds I’d vow my life to him. There is never a debt within the pack but if there were, I would be the one in it.” Noah looks at him in surprise. 

“I… You know, I’ll always think of him as my little boy. It’s hard to picture him as a man sometimes but…well, the more I learn about him the more and more impressed I become.” Derek smiles. 

“You and me both.” Derek stands. “Deaton gave him some medicine for the pain and it’s seems to work but I’d like to stay close to him in case I need to pull it. With your permission I’d like to go over tonight.”

“Son, you never need my permission. You’ve risked your life for the both of us and I might not understand how deep this all goes but I do understand what it means, you being his alpha. My home is yours. You come whenever you want.” Derek feels the next words catch in his throat, not expecting the warmth and genuine affection coming off the sheriff. Stilinskis… He thinks fondly. “You know though…his nightmares?” 

“He told me he has them but he’s slept fine these last two nights.” Noah’s face fills with shock and Derek is taken aback by the tears that suddenly fill his eyes. “Are they…?” That bad? He wants to ask but by the reaction, he already knows the answer. Noah nods anyways. 

“He doesn’t usually sleep. At least no more than 2 to 3 hours at a time. It started with just screaming which, you know, is bad enough but then he started… talking? Begging.” Noah looks down at his hands. “Mostly it’s just whimpers ‘no’ and ‘please’ but on the bad nights he’ll be crying, begging not to hurt ‘them’…” Derek winces. “I uh… Well I thought that’d be the worst, but it isn’t. The worst is when he doesn’t cry at all. Sometimes I can’t even tell if he’s awake or asleep but his eyes are open and I’ll find him sitting up in bed. He’ll…” Noah clears his throat. “He’ll be clawing at his arms. Doesn’t move otherwise. Doesn’t blink, just sits there whispering over and over… to ‘Get it out’. It’s… I-I don’t…” 

Derek feels his claws digging into his palms but he can’t make that matter. Can’t look away from Noah’s pale face. “You haven’t seen his arms have you? He always wears long sleeves now… he says he’s cold but I think it’s to hide the scars. He’ll tear at himself until he bleeds. I have to fight him to stop.” 

Derek can’t speak, can’t think of anything to say. Of course he had noticed the long sleeves but seeing as Stiles had nearly frozen himself to death he hadn’t thought to question the flannel. When he had changed last night he had done so in the bathroom. 

Noah is doing his best not to cry, shaking his head and clearing his throat before meeting his eyes. “You mean he really slept the whole night through?” Derek can only nod in response. “Is that… Is that because he joined you?” 

“It’s possible. I can relieve emotional pain by being near my betas, maybe it works the same with dreams. I’ve never… I never thought to ask about it.” Noah nods. “Noah… I’d like to stay close to him. I wanted to let you know that I mean to ask him to move into the loft. At least for now. Until I-”

“He’s sleeping Derek. You don’t… he hasn’t slept in weeks. Months. If you saw his arms… if you…” Noah shakes his head again, standing to lay a hand gently on his shoulder. “You two do whatever you need to do. Whatever helps him. I’ll be right here.” 

“I promise I’ll take care of him.” 

“I know you will son.” 

Chapter Text

Noah leans against the kitchen counter, listening to Stiles explain distractedly about foxfire and pack dynamics. It’s a lot of what Derek had said and he nods along for the most part until the word Spark comes up more times than not. 

“Wait. You have magic? Like…a witch? Wizard…? Like that Harry boy?” Stiles bursts out laughing and the sheriff is taken by surprise when he sees it. His son’s face brighter and more relaxed than it has been in months. 

“Not quite like Harry Potter. I don’t need a wand.”

 “But you have it?” 

“Apparently. Apparently it’s been helping to… drain the poison the Void left.” All positives. All good news. Noah’s not sure he follows exactly what any of this means but the gist seems to be that Stiles is human with magic abilities and is recovering. He feels a weight lift off his shoulder the longer he looks at his son. Noticing how his back stands a little straighter and expression a little warmer. 

“And Derek’s helping you with it?” He asks, knowingly. 

“He’s been trying. He doesn’t really know too much about how magic works but he’s… convinced Deaton to help.” 

“You know, I like Derek. I never realized you two were so close but he’s a good man.” Stiles grins. 

“Yeah. He is.” 

“You’re okay going back there with him?” 

“… I’m not going to just up and leave you.” 

“Stiles. You realize this is the first conversation we’ve had since Allison right?” Stiles almost drops the pan of salmon he’s holding but Noah steams ahead. “This is the first you’ve laughed since we got that thing out of you. Now, I won’t ever make you do anything you don’t want to do but you’re smiling again and if that’s because of Derek Hale I’d pay him rent to have you stay over. I don’t want you worrying about me son. If staying at your friend’s helps you through this then I’d rather you stay. You’ll always know where to find me. I’m just a phone call away.” Stiles swallows the knot in his throat and then nods. 

He knew he was feeling better. Going from no sleep to the best night’s sleep he’s ever had in his life was indicator enough that being in the loft was a healthy alternative to how he was previously handling the situation. He knew Derek helped him. Could feel the anxiety and pain and fear ebb away whenever he was close to his alpha but he had worried about leaving his father. It had been the two of them for so long he can’t imagine what Noah would do left on his own. 

Probably get a good nights sleep himself for once. The thought strikes him suddenly and he looks over his dad, realizing the bags under his eyes aren’t as pronounced as they had been when he last saw him. 

“Thanks Dad. I think… well at least, until I piss him off enough that he kicks me out, maybe I’ll stay there a while longer.” Noah smiles, gently ruffling his hair. 

“I think he likes you more than you realize. There aren’t many men who would come to me asking for permission to come watch over you.” 

“It’s kind of an alpha’s job but you’re right, he takes it to heart. And he likes you. Actually, he respects the hell out of you. I think he misses his family and you sort of remind him of his dad. From the little he’s talked about him he seems pretty great too.” Noah’s face changes between touched and pained. He opens his mouth to reply but the sound of tires out front startle them both. “Speaking of the Big Bad Wolf, can you let him in?” 

Noah meets Derek at the front door, pulling him into a one armed hug as they make their way into the kitchen. “Stiles let you drive the Jeep? He doesn’t even let me drive the Jeep.” 

“Stiles didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Stiles says before Derek can respond. “I killed her battery on Friday.” 

“So you can’t magic a battery back to life huh? Doesn’t work like that?” Noah asks, sounding a little disappointed and Stiles pauses thoughtfully, looking at Derek. 

“Could I?” 

“I’ve no idea but they always give the old battery back. I was going to take it to recycle but I’ll keep it at the loft if you want to try.” Derek offers only to have his attention pulled back to the sheriff when Noah quietly slips a beer in his hand.

“Sit down son, foods almost ready.” It’s said so easily, so casually that Derek takes a moment to process the bottle. He hadn’t sat down for a family dinner since before the fire and he hadn’t really expected Noah to still be home at this point. Not that he could get drunk either, a werewolf’s body healed itself too fast for alcohol to have any effects and the taste had never been to his liking. Noah is watching him fondly though and Derek finds himself popping the cap off and sitting down at his side. Stiles smiles, giving him a wink before returning to the stovetop. 

“I didn’t meant to interrupt. I should of asked sooner what time would be best-”

“Interrupt? We were waiting on you kid.” Noah says easily. “But Stiles has me on a strict diet so I hope you like fish.” 

“More vegetables and white meat is far from being strict.” Stiles defends, laying out plates for each one. “If I wanted to be strict I’d throw out all the beer and chips.” He gives Derek a pointed look that clearly reads ‘don’t encourage him’. Derek smiles when Noah grumbles back and raises his glass of water defensively. 

“I didn’t realize you actually cooked.” The alpha says, impressed as he looks over the plate of salmon and sautéed vegetables. 

“I told you I made dinner for my dad.” 

“I thought you meant sandwiches or T.V dinners.” Stiles’ face scrunches in disgust. 

“Stiles used to be in here with Claudia all the time when he was growing up. She was an amazing cook but I think she’d agree with me in saying he’s better now than she ever was.” Stiles flushes at that, ducking his head down and Derek watches as the two begin eating before helping himself. 

Noah was right. It’s probably the best food he’s had since his own mother’s cooking. 

“So! What’s the plans for tonight? There’s gotta be something fun and non life threatening left to do in Beacon Hills.” Noah says smiling. 

“I’m pretty much alpha banned from all forms of physical labor and entertainment so I doubt it.” Stiles grumbles. “Surprised I’m allowed to do this much.” 

Derek rolls his eyes in exasperation. “You’re the only person I know who gets upset from not being allowed to clean!”

“I get bored Derek. Very, easily bored.” 

“I’ll sign you up for a paint class then. I hear it’s supposed to be relaxing.” 

“You trust me in the loft with paint?” Derek pauses, wincing. “See! Didn’t think so.” 

“He’s like this any time he’s sick.” Noah says, turning to Derek in amusement. “Just find a scientific fact that sounds outlandish and tell him it’s fake. He’ll spend the next eight hours making a powerpoint to prove you wrong.” 

“Hey! Don’t help him!-” 

“You should have seen him when I told him peanut butter wasn’t a liquid.” Derek eyes flicker suspiciously between the two. Noah looking pleased and Stiles looking pissed and he’s not sure if they are teasing him or not but he can’t help but ask. 

“…Is it a liquid?” 

“Yes!” Stiles says fiercely.  

“Butter isn’t.” Noah teases. 

“Butter is a colloidal solution. It can be both solid or liquid. It’s a solid at room temperature and liquid at its melting point. Peanuts aren’t liquids. Butter is only sometimes a liquid but peanut butter is always a liquid.” 

Noah sighs like a man whose heard this argument a hundred times. Derek thinks it over for a moment. Both men staring at him. “…Is it because it takes the shape of the container it’s in?” Stiles nods happily. 

“That’s why the TSA classifies it as one.” Noah says. 

“But you’re talking about it in regards to when shear stress is applied?” Derek says, looking back at his beta. Stiles is grinning so wide Derek can’t help but smile back. “But Newtonian fluids have constant viscosity. Peanut Butter doesn’t.” 

“That’s why it’s a non-Newtonian liquid.” Stiles says. “It’s viscosity changes once force is introduced.” 

“So, toothpaste then?” 

“Yup! Liquid” 

“Lord help me, there’s two of them now.” Noah says, scrubbing at his face. Derek however, has never seen Stiles look so happy. Had never smelled him so happy. His wolf rumbles in contentment. Protect, Provide, Please. 

“If I had known reading was all it took I would have brought you some articles and books from my family’s vault.” Stiles’ face perks up. 

“Books? What kind of books?” 

“Any kind. My family has collected works on the supernatural since before Beacon Hills was established but many were also interested in scientific research. Since you’re that much of a nerd I can take you to pick out a few if it’ll keep you off your feet for more than fifteen minutes.” 

“Like you didn’t just have a dinner conversation about Newtonian Fluids? Admit it Hale, you’re as much a nerd as I am.” Noah chuckles and though Derek doesn’t reply he is smirking. “You really have a family vault?”

"Multiple.” 

“With a library?” 

“Above other things.”

“And you’ll let me in to see it?” Derek shakes his head and looks at him in fond exasperation. 

“Pack. Remember?” 

“Until the Camaro.” Stiles agrees, nodding. 

“Until the Camaro.” Derek echos and Stiles throws his head back to laugh. 

Noah watches the two quietly, not able to stop his own smile at how easily they bicker. It’s fond and familiar and the small flicker of doubt he had originally felt for letting Stiles leave dies out in an instant. He hadn’t seen Stiles this relaxed in a long time and he’s not sure if he’s ever seen Derek Hale look like that. Like he wasn’t waiting for something to jump out from the shadows. Like he wasn’t scared to turn his back to either of them… Like it didn’t hurt to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt for the Hale boy. It was hard not to remember the night of the fire. Of the teenager sitting in his office, sobbing and begging to know if anyone else had survived. He knew Derek was a few years older but he and Stiles knew of loss. At the very least the loss of a mother and he thinks that this arrangement might be the best idea for the both of them. If it means Stiles laughing and Derek breathing easier… 

Derek’s head suddenly turns to him, a look of concern on his face. “Noah? You okay?” The alpha asks, as if sensing a shift in his mood. And damn if he probably could… 

“Just thinking about how I’d rather not go into work. Maybe it’s high time I retire. These nights make it tempting.” Stiles is gazing at him cautiously. 

“Why? Is there anything wrong at the station?” 

“Nope. It’s just nice, having three at the table again. Makes me not want to leave.” Derek feels his chest tighten and copies the movement when both Stilinski’s stand, watching Stiles hug his father. “You’ll be gone by the time I’m home tomorrow?” Stiles nods. “You better keep me updated Stiles. I mean it.” 

“I will.” Noah smirks and turns to Derek. 

“You keep him out of trouble will you?” 

“Yes sir.” Noah claps him gingerly on the back as he gathers his keys, waving as he heads out the door. 

“He’s tired. It’s hard for him to go back to work on split shifts.” Stiles offers as he watches Derek stand in the middle of the kitchen looking a little lost.

“I worried him.” It’s not a question but Stiles is shaking his head regardless, busying himself with gathering the empty dishes. 

“No, if anything I think you gave him hope that his son won’t have to be a full time resident at Eichen house.” Stiles looks up at him. “He really likes you Der.” Derek feels the reply die in his throat. It was high praise, really. Being in the good graces of the sheriff. He liked Noah. Had always liked Noah. He was one of the few humans who Derek actually trusted. Honest and calm with a fierce loyalty to his family that would put some wolves to shame. He respected the man, cared for him even. It was hard to watch him and feel his adoring touch and not catch the longing for his own father. 

Stiles turns to the sink and Derek watches as the beta reaches to roll up his sleeve. He’s halfway through the movement before he jerks to a stop. His back turning rigid, tension flaring into his stance. Derek could leave it. Could pretend he never saw it. He could busy himself with cups and utensils and let Stiles’ happy mood continue for the night but he can’t get Noah’s haunted look out of his mind. The tired and fearful voice when he had asked if Derek had seen his arms. 

“Stiles?” Derek demands, watching his human jump and spin back around to face him with wide eyes. Derek’s stomach drops. “What’s wrong with your arm?” 

“M-My…? Nothing. It’s a perfectly good arm.” Stiles forces out a smile. “Not the big strong alpha arm by any means but-”

“Show me.” Stiles’ face goes pale. 

“What?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it, right? Show me.” Stiles frowns, his back pressing into the countertop as he shuffles back. 

“I’m not hurt Derek. You’d be able to smell it, right?” 

“I can smell blood. Not physical pain.” 

“Fine. Then hold my hand. There’s no pain.” Derek growls in frustration. The beta’s heartbeat is even, his voice leveled. If he hadn’t just been there to witness the change himself he never would have noticed something wasn’t quite right. Derek hates it. Hates how easily it is for Stiles to hide from him. How the chemo-signals barely register sometimes even when he knows the anxiety is eating away at him. 

“You stopped yourself from rolling up your sleeve.” 

“Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I get off from soggy, dish-soap sleeves.”

“Stiles, I just saw it. I was looking right at you.” 

The shift is instantaneous. Stiles’ fake smile falling and his arms rising to wrap around his own chest as if he could shield himself. And then the scent… Shame. The room suddenly reeks of it. There have been a ton of emotions Derek has smelled from Stiles; many of them within the same realm of guilt, but not this. It’s almost suffocating. “Der please. I-I don’t…It’s not what you think.” 

“What do I think?” He asks, stepping slowly forward and watching guiltily as his beta’s eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape route. 

“I know I said… about the Nogitsune. I know I tried… I wouldn’t do that now. Not to dad.” Derek can’t stop himself. The alarms are too loud, the scent too blinding. He’s in front of Stiles, taking his wrist and pulling his arm out to straighten. 

Stiles shuts his eyes but he makes no move to pull away as Derek nearly rips the sleeve up himself. 

All the air leaves Derek in a broken whine. 

Stiles’ arm is a grid of healed and twisted tissue. He can see the scared skin raised and discolored. Lingering faded and bright pink marks that leave small, unnatural valleys down his forearm. Scabs pepper through the twisted ribbons of varying sizes and Derek can’t stop himself from reaching down and tracing his finger along the largest one, feeling like his chest is being crushed. 

“I-I promise Derek, it’s not… I don’t do it on purpose. I promise I don’t! I-”

“I know.” He says gently. “I know you don’t.” Stiles’ body deflates, relief and shame and anxiety wrapping around them both. Derek brushes his hand slowly across his forearm as if he could smooth out the skin. “Y-You… doesn’t it hurt?” He finally asks, looking back up into glassy eyes. 

“I don’t ever remember… Dad says my eyes are open but I’m not awake until he’s wrestling with me to stop.” Derek swallows the lump in his throat. 

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” 

“I wasn’t! It’s… I hate them. I hate looking at them. I hate thinking about them. It wasn’t me hiding them from you.” Derek can hear the honesty and he frowns before gently pulling Stiles closer, brining his arm up so he can press his cheek against the skin. Stiles’ eyes widen as he scents him. “I-It’s not hurting Der.” 

“I know.” He says, meeting Stiles gaze and they both are silent for a long minute. “Tell me. Please. About any of it. All of it. I can’t… I just need to know.” 

“You don’t! You don’t though. It’s not… It’s not good Derek. It’s disgusting. It’s awful. I can’t stand it myself, you’re… I couldn’t stand you looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Pity.” 

“It’s not pity!” He says firmly, letting go of his arm to lay a palm along his neck. “Concern. Never pity. I’d never judge you Stiles. I swear to you, I’d never judge you. If you believe nothing else please believe that.” He does believe him. Derek’s eyes are wide and open and raw and he can’t help but nod, leaning into his hand. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. Derek shakes his head. 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. Not for this.” Stiles nods again and watches as Derek turns his attention back to his arm, slowly rolling down the sleeve. “Are there… anywhere else?” Stiles shakes his head. The smell of panic is slowly fading away and Derek motions back over to the table. “I’ll finish here.” 

“Derek-”

“You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He mumbles. “Besides, don’t you have homework or something?” That earns him a small smile. 

“You’re going to alpha force me to do homework now?” 

"If I have to.” Derek teases back gently. 

“I thought my dad said we should do something fun.” 

“Fine. You do homework until I finish then we can do whatever you want.” 

“Anything?” Stiles asks in surprise. Derek nods cautiously, already feeling like he’s walking into a trap even before his beta’s smile breaks into a grin. “Have you watched Star Wars?” 

It turns out, Derek has watched Star Wars. Turns out, he actually likes Star Wars and they make it through 4 and 5 before Stiles can’t keep his eyes open any longer and Derek herds him up the stairs. Stiles goes through his nightly routine before dressing in his pajamas and walking back into his room only to find Derek’s wolf form curled up on the bed. 

Stiles can’t help but laugh when the large head turns to him, tilting slightly in question. “You look like a quart in a pint pot Big Bad.” Stiles grins, taking in the way Derek’s tail hangs off the foot of the bed and his body sits at a C curve in order to fit on the mattress. Derek huffs in response, laying his head back down and nosing at the space next to him. 

“Der. The tea’s working. I’m not hurting and I’m not nearly as cold tonight. You can actually sleep in the guest room you know? You’ve got to be sick of me by now.” Derek growls, whipping his head back up to shake it and Stiles can’t help but feel relieved. 

He did want Derek to be comfortable but he was fairly certain it was because of the contact with him and the betas that the nightmares had stopped and the thought of them returning had him worried. 

He’s happy then when Derek only scoots further against the wall, giving up as much room as possible to Stiles’ side. It’s not much but it also doesn’t really matter as Stiles climbs into bed and shuffles to curl along his shoulder anyway. It’s still a tight fit but Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Derek was curled around him, creating a sort of nest he could snuggle into. He thinks the alpha reads how content he is because a moment later Derek is making that deep rumbling sound. The one he uses to calm the betas. A sort of grumbly purr and Stiles melts down against the fur and vibrations. “It’s like falling asleep on a super soft massage chair.” He mumbles, burying his face into his wither. 

Derek huffs again and it’s not long after that they both fall asleep. 

Stiles feels the bed shift next to him, a small whine cutting through the fog of sleep. It takes him a moment to realize where he is, to remember the wolf at his side and he almost lets himself relax back down when Derek’s body quakes and another whine breaks through, louder this time. “Der?” He sits back, blinking as his eyes adjust to the moonlight filtering through the window and freezes when he realizes Derek is still asleep. 

The wolf’s body is twitching, sudden tremors and shivers rushing down along his pelt. A nightmare… 

Stiles swallows against the worry that rises along his throat. There are a number of things that Derek could be dreaming about. Each more heartbreaking than the last and while he never thought the alpha was immune to the trauma it was always hidden so well Stiles never thought he’d be here to see it. 

Derek lets out a terrified snarl, his body slinking back until he’s pressed against the wall and that’s what gets Stiles moving, reaching over to shake at his shoulder. “Der? Derek, wake up Big Guy. It’s just a dream.” Derek shudders again, growling. “Dere-”

It happens too fast for Stiles to react. One moment he’s sitting next to the alpha and the next he’s underneath him. The momentum sends him crashing against the headboard, pain erupting at the base of his skull as he’s flipped down onto his back. 

Stiles curses, stars filling his vision as Derek lets out a loud roar. He doesn’t have time to blink through the blinding images before the alpha’s face lowers down to his own, feral eyes glowing and saliva dripping down his muzzle. They’re nearly touching, noses mere inches apart and Stiles can see the crazed look in his eyes, can feel the threatening snarls brushing across his cheek. 

“Whoa! Derek, it’s ok. It’s ok. It’s just me, it’s Stiles!” Derek’s body twitches, the words sending a growl through the wolf. “You remember? We’re at my house.” Stiles says softly. “It was a dream Der. You were having a bad dream.” 

Derek’s eyes lift, darting wildly around the room, making a circuit of each corner before falling back down to him. Stiles knows he should be afraid, knows that Derek isn’t just feral with the shift but with the panicked remnants of the nightmare but he pushes down the unease. Derek can read the emotions on him now better than he could in his human form and If there’s one thing he’s learned from Chris it’s not to act like prey. 

He grits the back of his teeth together, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and emulates a quiet growl instead, turning his neck entirely to the side as a full show of submission. Not prey… pack. 

And it works. 

The action quickly quiets Derek’s snarling, his coiled body easing slightly as he drops his nose down to Stiles' neck, giving him a long sniff. 

“See, I smell like you right? We’re pack…” He murmurs, feeling the panting heat against his jugular. Derek’s breath, hot and wet and dancing across the skin. “You’re my alpha.” He says “I’m your-” Derek’s mouth opens, teeth slowly ghosting across his neck and stopping at the dip above his clavicle; and the sound that rises from the wolf is like nothing Stiles has ever heard. Low and possessive and guttural. It causes a shiver to strike through Stile’s entire body as his nose presses down on the spot and Stiles is acutely aware it’s the area a mating bite should go. 

The reaction is not one he expects, not one he particularly understands when heat coils around his stomach, rushing up to his face and down to his groin. “D-D-Der…no biting. Remember? Your weak, injured little human probably couldn’t survive the bite right now. Okay? B-Besides. I can’t be emissary if I’m a Were and we both know you’re shit at talking so something’s gotta give, right?” 

He’s babbling but he figures that’s better than squealing. Nothing he had watched or read or heard from Chris had prepared him for this. Vicious, blood lusting attack? Sure. Reverent, calculating caress of 3 inch fangs? Not so much. He’s not sure what’s happening, he didn’t have the capacity to question it but he figures it’s important. Filing away the flush of arousal to ‘problems for 2:00 am, sleep deprived Stiles’ he slowly raises his hand, reaching up to Derek’s head. 

Derek growls out in warning, tracking the movement with bated breath but he doesn’t object when thin fingers to fall just below his ear and Stiles waits a moment for him to settle on the idea before he begins scratching against the fur. “You don’t want to hurt me Der. I know you don’t. You’re mad. I smell like you, but you don’t feel the bond, right?” The wolf snarls against his throat. “I’m still your beta. I’m just sick and not strong enough for the bite. We’re safe here. It was a dream.” 

Derek’s body stills before sliding his nose along into his collar and it’s almost ticklish the way the wet trail leads across his neck. Stiles can’t say it’s exactly a conscious decision, if Derek had understood his words or not but he takes another long inhale of his scent and then the headache is pulled away. 

It’s the pain that does it.

Derek’s body suddenly jerks back in understanding. He begins to tremble, eyes fading in realization and Stiles knows the exact moment it’s no longer the wolf he’s speaking to but Derek himself. “It’s okay Der!” He says hurriedly. “It’s okay, we’re at my house. We’re safe. You didn’t hurt me.”

He feels the tears before he sees them, dripping down onto his cheek as Derek’s body begins to change, pants turning into gasping breaths and Stiles surges forward, wrapping his arms around the now human shoulders and pressing his face against his neck. “Der? It’s okay-”

“I-I’m sorry…” Stiles shakes his head. 

“No. No it’s okay. It’s okay Der. You’re okay. It’s just me. Just Stiles.” Derek is suddenly moving, pulling him up and into his lap to grasp at him. One hand cradling the blooming bruise on the back of his head and and the other wrapping around his shoulders so tight it hurts a little to breathe. The headache disappears once more and his heart breaks a little that that’s what Derek’s first impulse is. 

“Derek. Der please, I’m okay. Don’t do that. Just look at me. Okay. Please?” But Derek can’t. Can’t make himself meet his eyes, shame and guilt and Stiles is so afraid that if he lets him go now he’s bolting out the window and he’ll never see him again. “Okay. That’s okay. Just stay with me. You’re safe here. I’m safe here. I got you.” The silence that follows is deafening. 

Stiles can’t move to try and gauge his reaction, can’t pull back enough out of the desperate hold to try and meet his gaze but he can still feel the hot droplets running down his neck and the way Derek’s whole body trembles with restrained sobs. Physically they’ve never been closer but there’s a deep and instinctual pang in his chest that tells him he’s so close to loosing him… It terrifies him into action, dipping his head under the alpha’s neck, resting his face against his adam’s apple and mimics the little whine he’s seen in the videos. 

It’s supposed to be affectionate. He thinks it is anyways.  He prays it feels reassuring. Prays he’s doing something right. He doesn’t actually know. For all the things he’s read and seen and practiced he’s not sure that he’s helping instead of making things infinitely worse; but Derek seems to react to the sound, his hold tightening on him a little more. 

All Stiles can think about is how he only ever wants to be held after he wakes. How he’ll grasp at his father and count and recount both of their fingers. Anchoring himself with words and touches and sounds. And Stiles has never considered himself to be good at much of anything except talking so that’s what he does now, petting through Derek’s hair, running his cheek against whatever exposed skin he can reach. Trying to scent him, to hold him. Offering as much contact as he can.

“It was a dream. I got you.” He murmurs. Derek makes a strangled sound, something close to words that don’t quite make it. His body heaving with the choked sobs and god, Stiles can’t stand it. He knows the feeling. Loathes the feeling. And he can’t stop the stinging in his own eyes at the broken sound that fills the room. “It’s just me here Der. Dad’s gone. You can cry if you want. It’s just me. You can cry.” 

It’s all it takes. 

Derek does cry and Stiles talks and they sit in the middle of the bed wrapped around one another. 

It’s some time before Derek can make himself move, to pull his face away, shame averting his eyes down to the floor. He wants to leave, to run, he tries halfheartedly to push away but Stiles keeps his arms locked around his shoulders. His face now falling into Derek’s chest as he fails to retreat. The beta is scenting him, has been since he woke, fluttering fingers and presses of skin marking him in every conceivable way. It’s clumsy and awkward and so incredibly innocent that Derek clutches him tighter. He hasn’t been marked like this since his mother brought his baby sister home. Gentle and adoring and kind. 

Stiles finally pushes his chin into Derek’s neck to speak into him, hoping the vibrations of his words will help. He might not be able to mimic Derek’s wolfy purr but he figures it’s close enough. “S’okay Der. It’s okay.” Derek’s body shudders again and he bows his head down on top of him, tucking Stiles into his chest and closing his eyes. 

Minutes tick by with Stiles nuzzling him and Derek knows it should be alarming. How strongly the scent of his human beta worked. Stiles wasn’t a Were and no true bond had yet been forged. It shouldn’t have been providing him the soothing effect it was now. Hell, he shouldn’t even really notice it anymore considering they had been together for days but Stiles’ smell flared to him with each swipe of contact. Medication and ink and pine soap soothing him with each soft press of skin. He wanted to bury himself in it, hide in it and Stiles seemed only too willing to oblige, pale limbs wrapping around him, locking him into place, grounding him in every sense of the word. It’s safe and gentle and terrifying and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“You back with me Sourwolf?” Stiles mumbles gently. Derek lets out a huff that’s part laugh, part wince but Stiles seems relieved at it. Smells relieved. “I’m here with you. You know that right? I got you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Derek tries again, his voice cracking. “I’m-”

“Nu-uh.” Stiles argues, shaking his head against him. “No. We got to come to come to an understanding Derek. How about we agree, neither of us apologize for something we wouldn’t want the other to apologize for. Okay?” He leans back slightly to look at him. “You wouldn’t let me apologize for a nightmare.” 

“You wouldn’t try to rip my throat out for waking you from it!” 

“I…might.” Stiles says. There’s no teasing in his voice and Derek lets his eyes fall back to the human’s arms. Thinking back to the clinic, of Deaton laid out on the floor, of the Nogitsune slamming him up against the wall and he clamps his mouth shut. “If I did… would you have wanted me to apologize?” Derek shakes his head. “Fine. So you don’t either.” 

Easy. How could he make everything seem so easy? Derek wants to argue but is too tired to do it. Doesn’t know how to win against Stiles over something like this. Maybe he didn’t understand easy but Stiles is petting him again and scenting him once more and can’t make it matter. He’d agree to anything Stiles wanted right now and that in itself was easy so maybe he’s learning. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Stiles lets out a small laugh. 

“Hate to break it to you Big Guy but you’re really just one massive, adorable puppy.” 

“I could have bitten you!” 

“You wouldn’t. You didn’t. Even when you were feral and confused and desperate to feel the bond, I told you I couldn’t take the bite and you stopped. And I knew you would.”  

“How could you be so sure? You really didn’t think…? I felt everything you did and never, not once… There was no doubt!”

Ignoring the most prominent declaration of ‘I felt everything you did’ Stiles slowly sits back to face him. “You wouldn’t hurt me .” 

“I did hurt you!” He snaps, motioning to his head. 

“That’s not the same and you know it! I surprised you and even my dad could have done something like this on his worse nights.” Derek opens his mouth to argue, his face sullen and worried and Stiles won’t have it. He pushes forward before the alpha can respond, pressing their foreheads together and shocking him into silence. “Stop that! You didn’t do anything wrong Der. I wasn’t scared of you because I know you. You remember? I know you. You have nothing to be sorry about. Okay? I’ll let you buy me a new car if you just stop frowning.” 

Derek can’t help it. It’s all so ridiculous. Sitting naked in Stiles’ full size bed, being scented the most he’s ever been in his life by the only human he’s ever willingly touched since Paige. Having the mouthy little beta crawl along him like a newly turned pup and giving him permission to buy him a vehicle. Derek laughs. It’s choked and wet and unfamiliar but he can’t stop the mildly hysterical bubble that fills his chest. He pulls Stiles back into himself and feels his human wrap his arms around his shoulders once more. 

“I’m buying you a Beetle.” He says wetly. 

“You would!” Stiles gripes. “I’ll be driving for my life from killer vampires in a Volkswagen.” But the bickering is familiar and anchoring and they’re both smiling into one another as they fall into the safe pattern. 

“You need to sleep…” He makes himself say. 

“You need pants.” Stiles counters lightly, earning a quiet chuckle and slowly, hesitantly Stiles unties himself from around him. “Get dressed Big Bad, then come to bed.” 

“I don’t think I can sleep now.” 

“It’s not for you. My stomach is hurting.” Stiles says. It’s a lie, Derek hasn’t stopped checking through his pain levels since he had actually woken. Afraid that he might have done more than Stiles let on. There was nothing other than the injury on the back of his head. Stiles is looking at him nervously though, twitching on the bed as if he were trying to decide whether to stay seated or stand with him. Derek decides not to comment on it, only moves to gather his clothes from the chair and dress. 

“Your head… We should-”

“Your better than any aspirin Der and I’m colder than ice most of the time. I’m fine, really. Vision is good, ringing stopped.” Derek nods solemnly before returning to sit on the edge of the mattress. 

Stiles is there in a second, herding him back to lean against the headboard, pressing his face into his shoulder and tucking himself into the alpha’s side. Derek stiffens, not moving, barely breathing. He hasn’t had this amount of physical contact with anyone outside of sex and it goes against every promise he’s ever made himself. Against every voice of reason and past experiences that’s told him this was dangerous. That it would end as it always did, in tears and death and broken hearts. He knows better. He does. Don’t get close. Don’t get attached. 

He could give and observe and hope but never take. Never participate. He had held the betas at an arms distance, provided and protected and supported but never allowed this. Never let them touch him, hold him, accept the gentle press of skin or lingering warmth that always ended up burning him in one way or another. Then again… He had never trusted anyone the way he trusted Stiles. Not Kate and her cold eyes that made him nervous and desperate to please her. Not Jennifer and the foggy confusion that made time lapse and memories blur. Not Laura and her barely contained condemnation or Peter and his ever-changing loyalties or Deaton’s false words. 

Every one of them holding something against him. Words or memories or touches like a knife blade at his throat. He had given it to them, bared his neck and closed his eyes and let them saw away until he was choking on smoke and betrayal and tears. But not Stiles. Not when he had heard, learned, known every dark and horrid secret. Even when he had seen his blue eyes and watched him fail through the first months of being an alpha Stiles was kind and understanding and safe. Safe…

So he ignores the warning voices. The lost promise. He slowly, carefully leans his head down onto his human, soaking in the touch and smell. Burning it into his brain and praying to any deity that still believed in him not to let this hurt. Not to let it hurt either of them.

“This isn’t comfortable.” He says after a moment of sitting in the half bent position and it seems to take a moment longer for Stiles to process the words. He nearly jumps back, guilt falling over his face as stares up at him in the dark. 

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… It’s just, dad always holds me after… I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to be touched.”

“It’s ok.” Derek murmurs. “I meant it won’t be a comfortable position for you to fall asleep.” And maybe it’s the dark or the lingering remnants of the nightmare or the way Stiles’ eyes are so round and earnest but he doesn’t stop the next words from leaving his mouth. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”  Stiles swallows, looking him over dubiously before he slowly sinks back to Derek’s side. 

“If you want..I mean. You can tell me. If it… helps?” Derek can think of a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t tell him. He knows he’s already taken more than he’s ever been comfortable taking. Knows he shouldn’t pile this on Stiles as well but the beta’s arm wraps gently around his own, squeezing him slightly in reassurance and he can’t stop himself. 

“Jennifer.” He says thinly. Rage flickers through Stiles like a lighter flickering to life. “I’m sorry Stiles. I never said that. For your father-”

“Don’t. Fuck Derek, don’t. Don’t ever think that was your fault. She used a spell on you. You didn’t… You couldn’t have known. Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I’m sorry for how awful I was to you about it.” Derek opens his mouth to argue. To say hat Stiles didn’t need to apologize. That is was his own fault. That he should have known better but then Stiles is turning and pressing his face into his neck again and all the fight leaves Derek in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop it.” 

“I’m the one whose supposed to protect you.” He growls. 

“You do. All the time. But we’re pack and we protect each other. That’s our M.O right?” Stiles closes his eyes and Derek can feel the flutter of lashes against his neck. “You save me, I save you. And I’m pretty sure it’s time I tag in, so you know? Shut up and let me take care of you?” Derek doesn’t know what to say but he’s tired, too tired to pretend that he doesn’t want to wrap his arms around his beta, to breathe in his calming scent and let himself be held. So he doesn’t. He bows his head over the human and lays his arm over his shoulder to bring him closer and lets Stiles card his fingers through his hair. “Promise me something though Der. Ok?” 

“What?” 

“I told you my pride couldn’t take much more, but, I’m begging… I’ll do anything you want me to do. Just… Just, don’t disappear on me. Okay? Promise me, if I fall asleep, you’ll still be here when I wake up?” 

He feels the tears tick up all over again. The waver in his beta’s voice. The worry and concern filing around them. Derek’s never felt the words stick in his throat the way they do now and he nods dumbly into his messy hair. 

“Promise.”